


Help Me Heal

by mialovesmarauders



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Original Character(s), POV Remus Lupin, Post-First War with Voldemort, Post-Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Raising Harry Potter, Remus Lupin Raises Harry Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin Raise Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29723943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mialovesmarauders/pseuds/mialovesmarauders
Summary: Set after Halloween 1981 from Remus' POV. He is alone until Harry comes back into his life and they help each other heal after they lose James and Lily. Wolfstar raising Harry - SLOWBURN!!Sirius gets out of prison before the events of Prisoner of Azkaban (not straight away - Chapter 8!!), but other than that it's pretty much canon compliant with character deaths etc.Be kind, if you don't like the fic or the writing it's ok.(Also I do not support JKR or agree with her disgusting/transphobic beliefs)Enjoy x
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Remus Lupin & James Potter, Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 83
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter One: Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy xx

## Chapter One: Ghosts

Moonlight shines through the canopy of trees surrounding Remus as the tug of the wolf inside overpowers him, leaving his breath snatched from his lungs and his chest pounding in rhythmic beats. It’s as if the world is standing still for a moment, just to stop and watch as the transformation takes place. Like they’re waiting to see how he copes after it all. The beast within is desperate to escape for a few hours before recoiling to the useless human body it occupies.

Remus feels his finger bones snapping and extending into long, deadly claws and his mouth aches as the wolf’s sharp teeth break through his soft gums.

But the pain isn’t unwelcome. Not this moon. Usually he would never look forward to the hungry pull of blood and his heightened senses, but he doesn’t mind escaping tonight. Escaping his messy world and the way everything changes after tomorrow. Everything becomes too real. Nothing will ever be the same. Nothing.

So, as the wolf tears itself free and eclipses all that’s left of the boy who’d been there moments before, it rejoices in the fresh air; the smell of rabbits burrowing nearby; the breeze as it ruffles the fur running along its back.

The wolf stands up and stretches - its head spinning to find the big one, the black one and the small one, but finding nothing. Again. Then it howls long and loud to its only constant companion. The moon. 

* * *

_Monday 2nd November 1981_

Sometimes he wonders if it was his fault. If one tiny thing he’d done differently would’ve made all the difference. Could he have prevented it from happening? Or would he still be standing here looking at the rain falling on the grass and doing everything he can not to scream?

_I wonder..._

Remus still sees their faces. The mischievous smirks James would get when the final piece of a plan fell into place, like a puzzle only he was capable of solving; one only he could see. The way Lily’s eyes would shine when they were all together. Laughing loudly and drinking, or just sitting contently, letting precious time slip away from them without even knowing. Peter grinning whenever James and Sir... whenever they would pull off a prank without getting caught.

_It’s my fault..._

They were happy, then. Remus must've been, too, once. If he was, he can’t remember what it felt like.

He hopes he never forgets those images, though. Hopes they’re carved into his mind forever, always on repeat, until the day he can see them again. At the same time, Remus wishes they’d vanish so it wasn’t so damn painful.

Someone is speaking, now - another friend? Maybe a relative? – they all had a fair few. Remus was asked to speak, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say. It’s all just numbness when he thinks of them. Remus only glances up briefly to see who it is. She’s young, maybe only one or two years older than he is. Her eyes are a little misty, but she looks uncomfortable with the guests. Muggle then. One of Lily’s relatives. Perhaps her sister. To the woman’s right, a large blonde man and his equally huge baby boy watch. He seems disgusted and agitated by the wizards surrounding him, holding the boy’s hand tightly to keep him from getting too close to them.

But Remus doesn’t really listen to her, or anyone. He doesn’t care what these people have to say. Not about how everyone misses James’ smile, or how unfair it is that they were all taken from the world too soon. Not even when someone mentions the Boy Who Lived. They’re just gone.

_It’s my fault..._

“It’s not your fault.” Mary had told him, over and over again that night. Her face buried in his shirt, her tears falling freely onto his shoulder. The echoes of lost laughter hanging in the air around them as they sat in his and- in _his_ apartment.

Remus hasn’t cried since that first night. He’s starting to think he never will again. Someone - Mary, probably - told him it was shock.

"Natural," she'd said. Occasionally Remus believes her.

Today is not one of those days.

Remus supposes someday he might be able to pretend that Mary's right, that he’s not to blame. But as he stands in the cold, rain flattening his curls and trailing down his scarred face, he can’t help but think she’s lying to him. Telling him false comforts like any grieving friend would. Remus should feel grateful. It makes him feel worse.

_I should’ve been there..._

The caskets are lowered. Silence drowns everyone, hangs above their heads until someone dares to breathe, then it comes crashing down in waves, filling their mouths and lungs. _It hurts._ Remus thinks someone is holding his hand; whoever it is keeps him from drifting away, like an anchor holding him to this moment and forcing him to watch as their bodies are stolen from him all over again. Remus doesn't want to look, but that someone is keeping him in place, keeping him steady and upright even if the world is falling apart.

_You used to do that for me,_ he thinks stupidly.

These people were his tether. The ones who kept him from spiralling and lashing out. Especially... _no._

When Remus would wake up screaming, Sir- _he_ would just hold him, scars and all, then say, _I love you, Moony_ , and tell him that everything was going to be alright in the end. Remus knew what lying looked like, even then. It feels like the whole world is lying to him, protecting him from the truth, keeping what really happened that night a secret. Like they're afraid he’s made of glass and will crack if he knows.

Remus turns to see who's holding his hand, acting as his new tether, but no one's there. Just a ghost from a life that doesn't really feel like it ever belonged to him.

_Maybe they're right about one thing,_ he thinks _, he won't just crack, he'll shatter. It’s just a matter of who else the glass cuts._

* * *

_Friday 4th December 1981_

The weeks after the funeral are a blur of drink and cigarettes. Remus tries to ignore the panging guilt he feels when he forgets for a split second that they’re gone. That he has no one left. He hears a song on the radio and wants to dance with Marlene, he sees a girl with red hair getting off the bus and thinks that Lily has come to visit. Every time Remus spots a pair of round glasses he sees James. He sees _him_ everywhere.

_Stop it stop it stop it..._

That first morning after Halloween, Remus had woken up in his and Sir— in his bed for the first time in weeks. He’d been with the wolves, trying to gain their trust and convert them from being uninvolved to actively fighting against the enemy. It didn’t even matter in the end, because they decided not to join, and the war had finished by the time he apparated back to London. When Remus woke up and felt the soft blankets and the warmth of the pillow against his cheek, he had forgotten.

Only for a moment. But it made him feel sick.

He had rolled over, seeking out the other body who would lie next to him. The one with dark hair that would splash against the white sheets and smile in his sleep. But he wasn’t there. Just the hollowed out space his body had once lain so comfortably. Suddenly the tide came back in, bringing memories of the night before. Screaming, crying; he and Mary clutching one another for support before he’d snapped and started smashing things.

Someone – Mary of course, who else did he have left? – had cleaned up. Swept the shards away, tidied it all up as if nothing had even happened. She hadn’t stayed for long after Remus had his little outburst, and he was grateful to be alone the morning after. By midday he was drunk. It was a full moon, and for once he didn’t even mind the aches and pains. The prospect of tearing his flesh apart and bleeding out on some forest floor was a punishment he deserved.

The next day had been the funeral.

Then it was _his_ birthday. And Remus spent the whole day remembering secret kisses, being tangled in the bedsheets of their dorm in Gryffindor Tower, curtains drawn, silencing charms in place to keep their relationship hidden from everyone else.

It had not been a good day. But weeks had passed and he still felt disgusting and betrayed and alone.

Now, he sits in the middle of a stranger’s home. One he doesn’t recognise. There’s beer cans thrown about all over the kitchen counters. The fridge is empty apart from the booze and some chocolate that _he_ left there. Likely to welcome Remus home with before he went and killed his best friends.

He drinks the dregs from a bottle of firewhisky James and Lily bought over for a birthday or some such celebration and tries not to think about them, or Marlene and Dorcas, or stupid, brave Peter. Or _him_. It’s hard. Still, a month later, he is a mess. Mary comes over a few times a day. Remus thinks it’s to make sure he’s not gone as well. Remus doesn’t blame her at all. After everything, he ought to be doing the same. But he’s selfish and can barely bring himself to get out of bed, only leaving the house to buy more alcohol or something to smoke.

There’s a knock at the door that he ignores. Hopefully they’ve got the wrong address and he’ll be left alone again. No one from his world should know where he lives. He disconnected from the Floo Network after the funeral. But they are insistent and keep at it until Remus is on his feet for the first time that day and looking through the peephole.

It’s Dumbledore.

Remus feels his blood boiling beneath his skin. All his rage suddenly flows into one being. One singular man who let children fight in a pointless war. Remus’ wand is in his hand before another second passes, but when he looks through again, McGonagall is standing there. The door flies open.

“Remus?”

“Profess- Minnie?”

McGonagall looks saddened by his appearance. Her own expression is weary after everything that’s happened. She was at the funeral, Remus remembers, he didn’t talk to anyone that day and left as soon as they were buried. Why would he stay for the party? What was there to celebrate about their lives? They hadn’t even lived them.

McGonagall’s clever eyes trail into the apartment behind Remus, probably spotting all the empty drink cans and bottles, the full ashtrays, but he doesn’t care. Dumbledore is stood here and he sent his best friends to their deaths.

“What do you want?”

Remus knows it’s rude. But he just doesn’t give a shit. Besides, these people have no authority over him.

Dumbledore clears his throat, “We have come to ask you a favour, Remus.”

Everything inside him screams no. _No, no, no... do it yourself_ , Remus wants to yell. _Look at what happened last time someone did something for you, old man!_

Instead, he just turns around and collapses back on his couch, picking up a cigarette and lighting it with the tip of his wand. The other two follow him inside, closing the door behind them quietly.

“What is it?”

McGonagall seems like she wants to either scold Remus or hug him and never let go. He’s not sure which would be worse. She glances from Remus to the explosion of an apartment to Dumbledore.

“Perhaps this is a bad idea, Albus.”

Dumbledore’s eyes don’t leave Remus.

“It will be good.” He says in his soft, calm way. “For both of them, it will be good.”

Remus doesn’t know what he is talking about but assumes he is involved. For a moment he lets his mind wander. _What if...?_ He plays the game over and over in his head.

_What if James and Lily aren’t really dead?_

_What if Peter is alive?_

_What if Sirius is...?_

Alive? Dead? Caught? What was better?

It’s a cruel game he has been playing since Halloween. Tricking his mind into creating fantasies that will never be true. All the information was there. All of the evidence from the blown up cottage in Godric’s Hollow, to Peter’s lost finger.

“First, Remus, we must tell you that... Black has been moved from the Ministry to Azkaban.” Dumbledore informs him, carefully.

The words suck all the air from the room. Remus can’t breathe, but he has to. Has to continue. _That man killed my friends. Killed Lily and James and Peter._ He did not deserve Remus’ sorrow or pity. Azkaban was a harsh place. It was a sentence that only the worst of Death Eaters deserved, Remus used to think. Maybe that now included Black.

“Ok.” Is all he can manage.

For a moment they’re all quiet. Remus smokes and imagines hitting Dumbledore, but doesn’t. McGonagall looks tired and as if she’d like a go at the headmaster as well.

“Was there more?”

Dumbledore sits content in the silence until he decides to speak. When he says the word, Remus chokes on the smoke.

“Harry.”

In all the pain that Remus has been feeling for the last month, he hasn’t bothered to spare a thought for the orphan. The most famous wizard in the world, smuggled away in the dead of night to live with muggles who could raise him out of the spotlight. Guilt washes over Remus again. He should’ve been thinking more about the one-year-old who’d lost his whole family in one night, just like Remus had, instead of concerning himself with drinking away his problems.

He swallows dryly, “What about him?”

“We are worried he will not be safe in the home we found for him.” McGonagall says, “They’re terrible, neglectful people. They have a son of their own and hardly spend any time looking after little Harry.”

Despite the anger he feels and the hurt for Harry, Remus’ head falls back against the cushions and he says, “Let him grow up at Hogwarts or something. Hagrid and Filch would love that. Caretakers to babysitters.”

“We thought, maybe, you could take care of one another.”

Her words slap Remus in the face. Him? A werewolf with a drinking problem and anger issues is the best solution to their problem? Hundreds of names come to mind before he even considers their proposal.

“The Weasley’s don’t want one more?”

“Remus, they have six boys _and_ a new baby.” McGonagall explains. “There is no way he can live at Hogwarts. Believe me, I considered the possibility myself. Harry Potter must be kept away from the magical world.”

When he hears ‘Potter’, Remus feels his heart split a little more. This is the son of his best friends, the boy who was more loved than any child Remus has ever seen. He is an angel, a miracle, a piece of James and Lily to cling onto. Remus hasn’t seen him since the small family went into hiding in early Autumn. Would Harry remember him? Would he wonder where the black dog went?

“I’ll think about it.”

Dumbledore seems satisfied with this response and stands again. McGonagall follows suit, giving Remus the briefest smile.

“We’ll return with Harry tomorrow.”’

_Tomorrow?!_

“Ok.”

“Perhaps when you see the boy, you’ll change your mind?” McGonagall seems hopeful. Remus doesn’t want to let her down for some reason.

He takes another drag, “Perhaps.”

Then they’re gone. And Remus is alone once more.


	2. Chapter Two: Harry

## Chapter Two: Harry

_Saturday 6th December 1981_

“Hello?” Mary’s voice answers the phone.

Remus hesitates for some reason. Should this part not be easy? Talking to friends? But Mary is the only one he has left, and she’s seen him at his absolute worst. How is he supposed to explain that their old Professors have asked him to take care of the little boy they all loved so much? That he is the single worst candidate, that literally anyone would be a better option. Finally he takes a breath and replies.

“It’s me.”

“Remus?” Mary sounds like she’s smiling, he hasn’t seen her smile for months. Not since Marlene and Dorcas. “Oh love, it’s great to hear from you! When I come round you never say anything. I was getting worried.”

Remus sniffs, feeling more than a little guilty. He reminds himself that she is in the same situation as him. _At least she has a family_ , he thinks, then feels awful for having thought it at all.

“I’ve got something to tell you. Something important.”

Mary goes quiet on the other end as Remus tries to explain in the best way he can. Maybe he’s doing it wrong. Maybe they don’t even want Remus to take care of him after all. But he needs to tell someone.

When he’s finished, she is very quiet. Then,

“It’s what James and Lily would’ve wanted.”

One sentence and the whole room crumbles in on him. He can’t think straight and his vision blurs. Is he crying? Hyperventilating? Remus can’t tell anymore. Mary is speaking to him quickly. Remus thinks he is replying, but he can’t be sure. She tells him that this will be good for them both. _Why do people keep saying that?_ Then she’s being called away and Remus has to let her go. He hates letting her go. He’s scared she won’t come back.

“When are they coming over?”

“This afternoon.”

“Will you be alright?”

_No._

“Yes.”

Mary sighs, “Ok. Well, if you do keep him, how about I come over sometime soon? Y’know, to see Harry, not you of course.”

Remus almost lets himself laugh, “Of course.”

“I haven’t seen him since—”

“No, me neither.” He can’t let her finish.

Since Marlene or Dorcas? Since Lily and James? Since Sirius? Since before Halloween? Since before the pack?

Mary sniffs this time, “Speak soon, darling. I love you.”

The words smack him in the face. No one has said them to him for ages. He and Sirius were barely talking to one another before Remus left to go to the pack, and even then, their conversations were stilted and usually just ended in a fight. Sometimes sex, but nothing like it used to be. It wasn’t passionate or because they wanted to hold each other, or be comforted, it was just a way to get each other to stop talking. To stop worrying.

It was pretty unhealthy in the end. But Remus still misses the way those three words sounded when they came from his perfect lips.

_Lies, lies, lies..._

“Yeah.” Is all he can say before he slams the phone back into the receiver and falls against the wall, sliding down until he is on the dirty floor.

* * *

Hours pass like that. Remus doesn’t move all day. When the sun begins to set at about five o’clock he remembers that Harry will be here soon. He’s still a baby, but shouldn’t come to the house when it’s in such a state. Besides, he feels embarrassed that McGonagall saw it. The untidy flat is a mirror image of what's going on inside Remus. And no one wants to see that.

The spells come easily to Remus. All those days cooped up in the Hogwarts library or under the covers at night or in the Common Room have given him access to almost any spell he can name. He flicks his wand lazily and watches as the rubbish is collected and thrown it the bin, the sofa cushions are put back into place and random objects are replaced on shelves. It’s quick and simple.

He didn’t ask where Mary put Sirius’ stuff that first night after Halloween. She tidied away the things Remus broke in anger and collected all of Sirius’ things. Putting them in boxes or throwing them away, Remus didn’t care which. He couldn’t bare to think of him for weeks, let alone see and smell him everywhere. So now the flat seems empty, less of his stuff crammed onto surfaces and more room for the trash Remus replaced it all with.

The rest of the evening he sits by the open window and watches the city below him, chain-smoking. The apartment’s not far above the street, only the third floor, but he looks down at the small muggles as they wander through the streets, talking excitedly about Christmas plans or where they’re going on holiday. It hurts to hear people acting and speaking so normally, but Remus forgets that not everyone was effected by the war like he was. Like most of the wizard population in Britain was.

That’s when he hears the _crack_ of apparition in the hallway, so Remus stubs out his cigarette and stands up.

_I can’t do this I can’t do this..._

There is a knock at the door and Remus just stares in its direction, not moving to answer it. He’s been expecting them all day, but now he regrets even saying he’ll consider it. Harry needs a family, a mother, friends, brothers and sisters. Not a broken, hollow werewolf.

Eventually, he opens the door and is met, once again, by Dumbledore and McGonagall. He refuses to really notice the small, sleepy child in her arms. Just keeps his eyes on the old man and gestures for them to enter.

“Um, er, would you like some, er, tea?”

They both say yes and take seats at the kitchen table as Remus organises tea bags and turns on the kettle, doing it the muggle way to waste time. He can’t face Harry yet. He’s a weak man; it’s too painful to look at him now, after everything.

When he finally turns to place the three mugs on the table his eyes find the child without even thinking.

_No, no, no, no..._

He is James. He is Lily. It makes Remus’ legs shake and he sits before he falls over. His hands seek out the hot mug and he lets its warmth surround him as the boy stares back. _He is still a baby_ , Remus notes. But he’s being stupid, of course he’s still a baby. It’s been mere months since they were last in a room together, but it feels like years have passed. Years of torment and deceit and pain. So, so much pain.

McGonagall sips her tea slowly, Harry resting gently on her lap. Dumbledore is eating some biscuits he must’ve brought with him since Remus knows he doesn’t have any. The old man gives one to Harry who looks as though he’s never seen such a thing, but sucks the chocolate off anyway, getting it all over his cheeks.

James gave Harry his dark skin and messy black hair, but the expressions he wore were always Lily’s. Remus was there the night they gave birth. He remembers James pacing the upstairs corridor after Marlene told him and Sirius to get out before she hexed them. The boys had been saying ‘Go, go Gryffindor’ over and over. Remus thought it was a bit funny, Lily apparently did not.

Sirius had caught James’ eye when Marlene came back out telling him he could be there for the final pushes. They glanced between one another, a silent message of congratulations and good luck. Remus recalls Sirius holding his hand, the look of pure delight on his face when the cries of an infant came from inside the bedroom. Sirius had kissed him then, Remus remembers. He’d kept his face close after, tears in his eyes and said _I’m a godfather, Moony,_ so so gently.

How long, then, had Sirius been secretly on the other side, passing information and keeping things hidden even from his best friends? Was he already planning their deaths and the attempted murder of his godson the moment he entered the world? The emotions that night had seemed genuine, but now Remus can’t be sure if anything he ever said or did was true.

_Lies, lies, lies..._

But Harry is here. Small and thin and as green-eyed as ever. And Remus can feel the tears coming. For the first time since the funeral he doesn’t feel numb, he feels sad. Like a river bursting its banks, the tears fall down his cheeks, catching in the scars and falling into his tea. Harry finishes his biscuit and finds Remus’ eyes. A silent, wordless communication passes between them and all Remus can think about is how James and Lily would want their baby loved. And maybe Remus is dangerous and unlovable, full of hurt and emptiness, but their child shouldn’t have to be. Harry should be cared for and grow up happily, like his parents would’ve wanted.

Slowly, Remus reaches across the table where Harry’s sticky, chocolate-covered hands rest and takes one in his own. He shakes it gently.

“Hi Harry.”


	3. Chapter Three: Somebody To Lean On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet chapter mostly between Remus and Mary. Next chapter will be more plot related stuff but this conversation needed to happen for Remus to realise a few things.
> 
> Thanks for leaving kudos and commenting. It's really nice of you! x

## Chapter Three: Somebody To Lean On

Harry stays the night. Remus waits for McGonagall and Dumbledore to leave then lifts the kid to the sofa where he will sit more comfortably. A crib and some baby supplies are all that he has been given, the rest he guesses he’ll have to figure out by himself. _Maybe Mary or Molly Weasley can help me out._

It’s quiet in the neighbourhood for once, and Remus is desperate for a cigarette or some alcohol, but knows Harry is more important. The little thing is only one and a half so doesn’t do much. Can’t talk properly, yet. Remus remembers when he said ‘mama’ for the first time and Lily and James’ faces lit up...

_No, no, no, no..._

Remus can’t afford to be emotional right now. Not when there’s a small child sat opposite him, watching his every move with those huge, green eyes. It feels awkward to just sit and do nothing, so Remus flicks on the TV and watches the news - boring muggle politics and all. Baby Harry chews the wing of a plushie owl. For a while it’s ok, then Remus hears sniffling and turns to see that Harry is on the verge of tears. Glassy eyes welling up as he seeks out comfort in the only other person there. Remus.

Not knowing what else to do, Remus scoops up the child and sits him on his lap, Harry’s little fists still clutching his toy. McGonagall had given it to him, not his aunt and uncle. Apparently they hadn’t given him much, just an old crib and some baggy hand-me-downs from their own son. The thought of Harry being neglected makes Remus angrier than he realises, and he holds the boy close to his chest. From here he can see the top of Harry’s head. His hair already resembles James’.

“Mama...”

Remus swears he hears his heart breaking at the sound of Harry’s words. It cuts deep and draws blood. _Mama._ Just one word, possibly one of the only ones Lily and James ever heard him say. What would they be thinking right now? That Remus is completely unfit to care for Harry? Or would they just be grateful that someone who loves him is there?

“Your mummy loved you very much, Harry.” Remus lets himself whisper back.

For a while he isn’t sure if Harry is sleeping, but turns off the TV and just allows himself the peace and quiet of it all. There’s so much to be hurt by, but in this moment he can only think of keeping this boy safe and happy, away from the wizards who would exploit his fame and muggles who would ignore him. Remus would be there.

He stands and carries Harry to the small bedroom where his crib is, laying him down gently with his owl. Remus gets into his own bed and closes his eyes, making a silent vow to protect Harry. No matter what, he will keep him safe. He won’t suffer like his parents and those who came before him. He will be loved.

For the first time since Halloween, Remus sleeps without nightmares.

* * *

Mary comes over the next day.

Remus was woken early by Harry moving around, then crying some more before he relented and gave him food at five o’clock in the morning. He knows he’s far from a good parental figure, but he promises himself he’ll try.

When the knock at the door comes, Remus just tells them to come straight in and suddenly Mary is there, tears falling down her dark cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Remus wraps his arms around her as her eyes fix on the dark-haired, green-eyed baby, “It’s ok.” He soothes.

She collects herself after a few short moments, but is careful when she takes a seat beside Harry on the floor. Remus summoned him some crayons and paper, then sat back and watched him drawing scribbles all morning. Now, Harry’s gaze wanders from Mary to Remus and back again, like he’s trying to solve a particularly complex puzzle.

“Hiya, Harry.” Mary says softly. “Remember me?”

“Yeah he’ll recognise you instantly.” Remus says, “Took one look at me yesterday and said, ‘Remus’. Shook my hand and everything...”

“Oh, shut up.” She smiles though.

At least it gets rid of her tears.

They sit and play for a while, then Remus makes them tea and Harry eats some banana. Mary brought food to stock the fridge, both for Remus and for Harry.

“It’s nice to be able to see the floor again.” She muses as they sip their hot drinks.

Remus’ lips quirk, “Thought I’d change things up around here. Won’t be for long, mind. Got a baby now.”

“Well, I’m glad you made the right choice.”

No longer is she talking about the apartment’s cleanliness. Harry is covered in fruit, a mainly toothless grin etched onto his face as he squeezes the banana between his fingers.

“I think I did.”

“Of course you have.”

Remus sighs, “I just hope they would feel the same.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

He considers this. There was the fact that they named Sirius godfather, and not him. But Remus knew it was because Sirius was practically James’ brother anyway, plus he’d never felt hurt by the choice. In fact, he would’ve been concerned if he _was_ picked. Far too dangerous, and he was nowhere near as good with kids as the others. Even clumsy Peter had been better with Harry. So, logically, why _would_ their next choice be Remus? Why not give Harry to Mary or the Weasley’s? Or someone with experience at least?

“I just feel like they would be disappointed.”

Mary chokes on her tea, “What?! Remus, why?”

“Because I’m not cut out for this!” He says, a bit harshly; Harry stares at him. “I’m not meant for this… _stuff.”_

She studies his face and sighs, “We were all so young.”

“Huh?”

“You say you’re not cut out for it, but what makes you think Lily and James were either?” She pauses. “They were twenty, in the middle of a war and having a baby, Remus! _No one_ thought it was a good idea, not even them.”

Remus watches her.

“But they did it. They were a family; they struggled and fought and, ultimately, they lost everything. But they didn’t for one second think that they were capable of any of the stuff they accomplished.”

She’s right, of course. Mary was always right before, why should that change now? Remus tugs at the loose string on his sweater and nods.

“Sorry.”

“You and Harry are perfect for each other.” She grins at the little boy. “You’ll help each other, ok?”

Harry watches Remus as he takes a breath, “Yeah. Yeah, I hope so. I’m just worried I’ll fu—mess it up.”

“You never mess things up, Remus. And when you did, you were always the one who fixed it.”

He scoffs, “Sure.”

“It’s true!” Mary insists. “Besides, you’ll see that I’m right about all this someday. About you and Harry.”

_Perhaps._

He pauses and drinks his tea while Harry drags the purple crayon back and forth on the paper, creating a beautiful mess. It was how Sirius used to describe them together, _a beautiful mess_ , he’d say. And Remus would blush and push him away, but secretly agree. The thought fills him with grief and betrayal once more...

“I’m glad you’re here, Mary.”

She shifts a little in her seat, but maybe that’s just him imagining things. Since the revelation of Sirius' betrayal, Remus has been over-thinking and re-analysing everything he ever thought to be true. Searching for the lies he should’ve caught, the alibis that didn’t quite add up or the hint of a secret brewing just below the surface. It’s painful work, re-living all of those times. The highs where they were in love and thought the world was theirs, the lows where they’d fight and scream and fuck. They always made up in the end.

But it feels important to think about those moments. Remus hates thinking that he missed something that could’ve made all the difference. Something that might’ve saved James and Lily. Saved Peter. Maybe even saved Sirius, too.

_No, no, no, no..._

So, when Mary starts talking again, it takes a while for Remus to really process her words and what they mean.

“I’m going to see some family in Jamaica for a while.”

Remus’ eyes snap from Harry to her, “What?”

She runs rings round the edge of her mug with her finger, talking quickly as if she wants the words out in the air before she changes her mind.

“It’s just... I was thinking about getting away. Going to visit my grandparents. Mum and dad are taking the kids for Christmas, so I was thinking about tagging along. I was meant to go somewhere with Marls and Dorcas this year, but... well... then, _everything_...” She takes a shaky breath, “I’d still like to get out there, though. Haven’t seen my grandparents since before the war.”

_Three years. Three years ago we joined._

“Oh,” Remus says, “of course you should go see them. They’re your... family.”

Family was something Remus knew little about. He’d had one as a child, but then his mother got ill while he was at Hogwarts and father died soon after he graduated. It wasn’t as if they were particularly close, either. Becoming a werewolf seemed to drive a line between them as he grew older. It was sad, but not as painful as other deaths he’d grieved. At least they weren't murdered by their best friend.

_Stop it stop it stop it..._

No, his real family were the Marauders. Lily, Mary, Marlene and Dorcas, too. These people were his home, his safety net. And now they were all gone. It’s strange, really, remembering that Mary has a whole family of muggles who love and accept her, who weren’t involved in the war and therefore mostly out of harm’s way.

Remus hates how jealous he feels when she says that word. _She lost everything, too,_ he reminds himself, bitterly _._

Mary is studying his face as Remus watches Harry play.

“I might be gone for a while.”

_Gone._ Leaving Remus alone again. He should hug her and tell her that he will be fine, but that would be a lie and he’s had enough of those to last a hundred lifetimes. Still, he can’t bring himself to speak the whole truth either.

“How long do you think you’ll stay?”

“A few months maybe. Until my visa runs out I’spose.” She laughs slightly. She’s running from the pain as well.

Remus reaches across the sofa and holds her hand. It’s warm from where she’s been gripping her mug. They sit like that for a moment, both considering what to say next. Remus hopes it won’t be like this forever. Both of them standing on the precipice, their words stuck in their throats as they’re pushed closer to the edge. Someone must be rooting for them to fall.

“This isn’t goodbye, Remus,” Mary tells him quietly, “just... I just need some time away. I think you do as well.”

He nods. He understands, really, just finds it hard to accept that he’ll be alone. _Not completely alone._ A monster raising a baby.

Remus’ breaths are shallow, “You’ll call?”

“Will you?”

They laugh.

“Perhaps. If I’m not too busy playing mummy wolf.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Not when they start to talk back.”

“Oh, you’ll handle that just fine, Remus ‘quick-wit’ Lupin.”

His lips turn upwards, “You’re one to talk!”

Mary’s smile takes him back what feels like a million years. Back to roaring fires and reading, to parties and butterbeer, pranks and laughter. So much laughter... It’s another life.

A brief pause fills the air.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Remus asks her.

Sighing, Mary replies honestly, like she’s always done. “Truthfully? I think it will be a long journey until you are completely at ease with it all. Kids are hard, trust me, my younger siblings were awful.”

Brutal honesty. But harsh truths are always better in his opinion.

“But you guys will make it work." She assures him, "Besides,” she gestures to Harry, who’s managed to use the fruit impressively in his artwork, “he’s certainly not complaining.”

Remus laughs and leans back. They’re still holding hands and maybe that’s ok. It’s what they both need. Mary was there when Remus was going through the worst of it, but he’s been selfish and not seen how broken she is. How cracked and bruised the war left her as well. Now he sees. Now he knows why she needs to run for a while, why she needs the comfort of her family and the space to heal. Mary is the strongest person Remus knows, but even the strongest people get hurt.

“Y’know,” Mary says, “you should take him out of the city. The countryside would be much safer for him, and you can think of it as a fresh start.”

As she says it, his eyes find Harry again. He’s small and skinny and only says one word. His hair is scruffy like his father’s but his eyes shine as bright as his mother’s. Remus knows he deserves more than a dingy flat in the middle of London. Hell, _Remus_ deserves more than to be surrounded by memories of love and laughter when it was all a lie...

“You’re probably right.”

Mary chuckles, “When am I not?”

Harry shocks himself by sneezing loudly, his little body jolting back in surprise. Remus and Mary laugh, their fingers still entwined. 


	4. Chapter Four: The Burrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some cute Weasley family content here! I love them all so much.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading and enjoying the story. I love writing this fic so we'll just see where it goes... ;)

## Chapter Four: The Burrow

_Friday 11th December 1981_

Mary leaves that week. She comes by the apartment before her flight and hugs Remus so tightly that he struggles to breathe for most of Wednesday afternoon. Harry gets a kiss on the forehead and a promise that auntie Mary will come and visit soon. Despite what she’s said, Remus knows she has little intention of coming back in the near future. Someday, but not for a while, perhaps. It twists his heart into knots and makes him feel sick, but whatever she thinks is best for her is the right thing. Remus knows that.

“You will _actually_ write to Molly won’t you? Promise me.” Mary had demanded before she left.

“Yes, yes I will, now go before you miss your flight.” Remus half-laughed, half felt his heart splitting and had to make her leave before he locked her in and kept her from abandoning him like everyone else. _It wasn't their choice._

He wasn’t coping with her leaving very well. However, he wasn’t going to break down because of it. Harry had made him cry that first night and cracked his shield, yes, but Remus wasn’t quite ready to remove it entirely.

Mary had smiled her gorgeous, bright grin and kissed his cheek, “Love you, darling.”

Those words again, _lies, lies, lies..._

Digging his nails into his palms, he forced a smile back and nodded, “You too. Now get out of here, you plonker. There are people waiting for you.”

After that, she was gone, her brilliant laugh echoing down the hallway.

He wonders how long it will be until he hears it in person again...

After that, Remus settled into a routine where Harry was concerned. They ate breakfast far too early and Remus didn’t smoke when Harry was in the room. Only out of the window at night once he was asleep. Remus looked for houses while Harry drew scribbles quietly on the floor. Remus asked Moody for help with protection charms as Harry licked the chocolate off biscuits, then cried when there was none left.

Taking Mary’s advice, Remus got in contact with Molly Weasley for help with everything childcare concerned. After two days of letters and visits, he began to feel like an absolute burden. He forgets, sometimes, she has seven kids of her own, including a six month old. She’s always got so much energy. Even one relatively easy child is stressful enough in Remus’ opinion.

“It’s no trouble, really.” Molly promises that afternoon as she helps pack things into boxes.

"Sure?" He worries, "I know you have much better things to do."

She smiles and tells him, "Seriously, Remus, I don't mind. Andromeda loves looking after the kids, so..."

_Sirius' cousin, Andromeda._

He pretends to be nonchalant about hearing her name. How foolish did she feel when she found out about her young cousin's betrayal? Worse than Remus? It was a possibility. _First Regulus, now Sirius..._

Remus holds Harry in his arms; the boy is sleeping and quieter than ever. He wonders if it’s normal that he doesn’t say more than one word and that he doesn’t like separation much, but Remus isn’t surprised. Harry was forced to watch as his mother was taken from him in the most horrifying way, and surely that would leave some trauma? Even if he won’t remember it properly in five years.

Molly folds up an old baby blanket and lays it down on top of one of the boxes before turning back to Remus. “It’s a full moon tonight.”

If the baby hadn’t been sleeping Remus might’ve replied with something along the lines of: _Ah shit, I hadn’t noticed._ Thankfully, Harry helps calm him, and Remus rocks him slightly to keep his mind distracted.

“I’m aware.”

She looks up at him, eyebrow raised, “What are you planning to do with Harry? He can’t stay by himself, Remus.”

“I'm aware of that too, Molly.” He replies, rolling his eyes. He might be new to the whole guardian thing, but he’s not an idiot.

He doesn’t _mean_ to be rude, well, at least he doesn’t think so. But, like she says, the moon is near and his body aches again, thrumming with restlessness; his head throbbing with pain, swimming with nerves, _and_ he still hasn’t plucked up the courage to ask for someone to take care of Harry while he’s away. Mary was his first option, but now she’s gone. The Weasley’s would be the most natural second choice, but they have two infants and a whole hoard of red-haired kids to care for already. They don’t need the extra stress.

Molly watches Remus closely as he sits on the sofa, Harry still tucked in his arms. The cushions have been packed already, so it’s not as comfy as it used to be, but Remus can barely tell, not with the constant discomfort.

“I could take him.” She says.

Remus’ eyes widen, “You have a lot on your plate already. I think with three babies you’ll have your hands full, Mol.”

Her face brightens, “Oh, I don’t know. I think Harry would be easy enough. He’s far quieter than all my lot, anyway. The three boys can take care of themselves; Ginny is usually sleeping... or crying - usually because of Ron - and the twins _never_ stop rushing about, but Arthur can deal with that... Harry’ll be fine.”

Remus considers her proposal. It would be great, actually, having Harry go to the Weasley’s. But it’s not a one time commitment, he reminds himself, it’s a whole childhood of them. No matter what, Remus will turn every month and have to ask the Weasley’s to take care of Harry. But maybe it’ll be good. Harry can spend time with a proper family, make friends and come out of the shell he’s been forced into. Remus can’t help but think of the way Harry could’ve been raised had everything gone right. Had something changed. _Maybe if I’d been there..._

_Not now._

“You’re amazing, Molly.” Remus tells her. “Thank you.”

Molly grins and kisses his cheek, a motherly gesture, despite the fact she’s only a few years older. Her eyes turn to sleeping Harry, “We’ll have fun, won’t we?”

Harry sleepily rubs his face into Remus’ jumper.

* * *

After they've gone, Remus sits alone in the apartment. It’s the first time in almost a week that he’s had nothing to get distracted by. He doesn’t need to worry if he’s remembered to feed Harry or if he’s changed him (not his favourite thing about the kid). It’s quiet now, almost too quiet. Remus pulls out a cigarette and lights it by the window. He never used to care if the house smelled of smoke, now he has to. Sirius would make jokes about the smell but he usually didn’t mind either, joining him on the windowsill every now and again.

_Sirius, Sirius, Sirius..._

_Fuck._

Remus hasn’t thought about him for days. Since Harry came and Mary left, he’s been busy preparing to move away, to get rid of this painful chapter of his life that he can’t help but miss. It disgusts him when he walks into the bedroom and gets sad because no one is there waiting for him, no one is there to hold or kiss him or wake up beside him. He misses it, and that feels like his own kind of betrayal. How dare he miss it. Someone who killed his own friends?

Silence hangs heavy in the air as Remus takes drag after drag, reminding himself not to care about him at all. He has to stop this or he’ll be as bad for Harry as his uncle and aunt, and Harry definitely doesn’t deserve that again. Just one month spent there and the bubbly mix of James and Lily has disappeared, replaced by a sad, quiet child. Remus hopes one day that boy will return. The cigarette smoke drifts out of the window and up into the darkening sky.

_I should go._

Remus doesn’t move.

Each moon keeps getting worse than the last. This will be the third one in a row without any of his friends. In October he was with the wolves, then November he’d not cared how alone he was. He'd wanted the punishment, the physical pain to attach to the emotional suffering. It was partly his fault. He could’ve done something... anything.

_Shit, shit, shit..._

The longer the wolf is away from its pack, the more damage he does to Remus. Tomorrow, when he apparates to the Burrow to collect Harry and bring him home, how many new scars will he have collected? Will the Weasley kids flinch if they see his face?

_I should go._

What happens when Harry gets older and he starts to notice that Remus is gone every month? He’ll probably work it out long before Remus figures out a way to tell him. How do you even tell a child something like that? _Oh, by the way Harry I sort of turn into a bloodthirsty monster once a month and you can’t be anywhere near me in case I kill you or worse..._

...Hopefully he’ll understand.

_I need to go._

Remus flicks the cigarette against the ashtray and hops down from the windowsill. Pausing only the slightest when he catches a sudden sense of déjà vu.

Sirius. The moon, the pack, the friends he'd lost through the years.

_Stop, stop, stop..._

It’s a clear evening, the moon and stars will be bright tonight. He sighs, clutching his hip where the transformation aches have already begun, then closes his eyes and apparates out of the flat, feeling a twinge of sadness he refuses to acknowledge.

It’s the last time he’ll spend a moon there.

* * *

_Saturday 12th December 1981 - 5 am_

Howling. It rings in Remus’ ears long after he’s transformed back; morning frost covers his exposed body as he lies on the forest floor. The wolf enjoyed its night, he can feel the blood from the hunt on his chin. Sticky and thick, rabbit maybe? The wolf's release from within Remus’ lanky, battered frame is always a welcome one for it, but Remus knows it still feels the despair of being alone. Sometimes - and he hates to admit it - but sometimes he thinks he and the wolf are not so different. Both broken and lonely, both missing their packs. Their family.

_Harry._

The name is like a light at the end of a tunnel, guiding him through the darkness. Remus remembers that has someone now, someone to care for and love. A new pack. Or at least he hopes so.

So Remus sits up. He’s not far from where he left his clothes the night before, and he can smell the fresh air all around him, a reminder of a long-forgotten childhood hidden away in the Welsh countryside. Once there was a time where he wouldn’t have dreamed of moving away from London. It was a city Remus adored since he first stepped foot there at eleven years old. And, yes, maybe a certain dark-haired, pale-faced wizard had sparked that dream into a fiery reality once they left school.

But now, just three short years later, he’s left with nothing but a shattered heart, a lonely apartment and millions of memories that hurt too much to re-live; playing house with the child of his dead best friends. He knows, deep down, that leaving the city is the right thing to do.

_It will be good for us._

* * *

_\- 8 am -_

The Burrow is the strangest building Remus has ever seen, but it’s wonderful. The multi-story, thrown together house fills him with a warmth he hasn’t felt for a long time. A sense of home. Family. Like Hogwarts once felt for him. If Remus were to return to the school now, would he feel the same way? Or would the memories of happy years, secret kisses, pranks and laughter just break him? He doesn’t plan on ever finding out.

In the garden, Remus spots two young boys on child-issued broom sticks, and a third with his nose stuck in a book, crossed legged on the grass. The brooms barely lift above the ground, but that’s for their safety. Sirius was planning on getting Harry one for Christmas, Remus suddenly recalls.

_He’ll love it, Moony!_ he’d insisted. _We can get the twins, Ron_ and _Frank and Alice’s boy ones, too. Make our own junior Quidditch team!_

Remus had laughed at the time. Now it just hurts.

Frank and Alice were still in St. Mungo’s. Remus had been told by Moody at some point in those terrible weeks... _after._ He felt awful for not going to visit, but Moody had explained that they were so far gone they wouldn’t remember him even if he did. It was gut-wrenching. It seemed backwards that someone like Remus was alive and well after it all, but the Longbottoms and Potters weren’t. He didn’t deserve any of it. They did, though. They should get to be with their children, watch them grow up. Be able to recognise their own son.

Bellatrix Black-Lestrange and her disgusting husband were there that night. Barty Crouch Jr. as well, the creepy blonde kid who’d been in the year below Remus at school. The trials were reported in the _Daily Prophet_ a few weeks ago, but Remus hadn’t followed it very closely, he was busy being wrapped up in his own self-hatred and guilt. He supposed they’d be in Azkaban now. Would they congratulate Sirius for what he’d done? Or hate him for getting their so-called “Dark Lord” killed instead of Harry?

_The Boy Who Lived._

Remus is pulled from his own mind by the shouts of one of the boys managing to throw the Quaffle through their make-shift hoop. The taller boy, who looks about eleven, spots Remus approaching, limping slightly. It’s mending itself slowly, but he’s no Healer like Madam Pomfrey is, or Marlene was.

_Oh, Marls..._

“Mr Lupin?”

Remus actually laughs, “Yep.”

The other boy follows his brother, frowning at Remus. The youngest kid didn’t even glance up from his book. It looks far too advanced for a six/seven year old.

“Mum’s in the kitchen with Harry.”

“And Ron an—”

“—and Ginny.” The older boy finishes; the younger one scowls at his big brother. “Dad’s out with the twins. Lucky sods.”

“Bill!”

“What?” Bill smirks, “Mum’s not here!”

Remus lets the boys lead him to the kitchen door. Inside he can smell food cooking and the sound of a baby crying loudly. The sudden noise makes Remus cringe a little, but he enters anyway, flashing Molly a smile as he does so. She’s sat at the table with a tiny baby in her arms, two toddlers in highchairs beside her, covered in food and giggling. Harry’s darker skin and hair allows him to be unmistakeable in the throng of freckled red-heads.

“Oh, Remus!” Molly, holding who he assumes is Ginny in her arms, rushes up to greet him. Her small, round body is comically shorter than Remus’ long-limbed one, but she hugs him anyway.

“How’re you feeling, dear?”

Remus runs a hand through his curls and shrugs. He’s always hated that question. How can you even begin explain it all? Only a few people had ever truly known what the transformation was like, and they’re all gone now.

“Fine.” Remus responds, unconsciously shifting his weight onto his less painful leg. No need to worry her. He catches the smell of bacon. “Hungry maybe?”

Molly’s laughter fills the room, “Of _course_ you’re hungry! Should be ready soon. Bill? Go fetch Percy will you? He ne—”

“PERCY!”

“Charlie! What did I say about the shouting? The babies?”

“In all fairness, they shout more than I do.”

Bill’s smirk grows a little. “He’s not wrong.”

“Bill...” Molly warns as she moves across the kitchen.

“Sorry.”

Percy pokes his head through the door, his horn-rimmed glasses slipping down his freckled nose. “Someone say something?”

“Nah, probably your imagination, Perce.” Bill teases; Charlie giggles. “Go back to your book, eh?”

“William!”

“Fine.” He sighs, “Breakfast’s ready.”

Remus half-listens to the rest of the conversation. The boys are arguing, Molly has stopped Ginny from wailing, thank Godric, and Ron is throwing something over the table. But Remus’ eyes are glued to the dark-haired boy across the room. His large green eyes find Remus’ and Harry smiles at him. One tiny grin and Remus melts completely. He limps towards him and picks the boy up, cradling him in his arms.

“Mama.”

Remus laughs gently into Harry’s soft hair, “No I’m Remus, Harry. ‘Member?”

The kid hugs him. Remus might’ve cried if Ron didn’t get there first. He seemed to be out of whatever food he was making a mess of and burst into tears.

“Bill, can you sort your brother out?”

"Uh huh."

The oldest boy nods and takes his little brother in his arms; Charlie follows along and after a few moments, Ron has calmed down. The whole room is full of the feeling of family. Even one night surrounded by other children and Harry looks happier – and healthier - than he was a week ago when McGonagall and Dumbledore proposed that Remus be his guardian. Now, he can’t imagine saying anything but _yes, yes of course._ And he was _so_ close to doing the exact opposite. Maybe this arrangement will work out after all.

Molly serves bacon, eggs, toast and beans on eight plates – Remus guesses Arthur and the twins will be home from wherever they are soon – then puts beans and some egg in bowls for Harry and Ron; some toast to chew as well. Ginny is asleep. The boys fight over who gets the biggest pieces of bacon as Remus puts Harry back into his highchair and takes a seat beside him. He just wants to be close.

_Pack,_ he thinks involuntarily. But it feels right.

The others arrive within minutes, and Remus feels like he’s truly part of something again. He’s not sure what he’d call it. He isn’t ready for another family, but he knows these people are special now. All five boys shout and laugh loudly despite their differences in age. Three year old Fred smears beans on George’s face halfway through breakfast. So, of course, Ron being the impressionable younger brother that he is, copies, choosing Harry as his target. And he loves it, squealing happily as the orange beans drip down his chin.

No, Remus doesn’t know what this new chapter will entail, but he feel hopeful for the first time in a long while.


	5. Chapter Five: Christmas, 1981

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Harry chapter :)

## Chapter Four: Christmas, 1981

_Thursday 16th December 1981_

The cottage is the perfect size. Small and cosy, making it feel homely, with rose bushes climbing up the walls outside and a garden big enough for Harry to play in when he’s older. Maybe even play Quidditch in. James would’ve wanted that, Remus knows. Neither of them complained when they arrived and saw how different it was compared to the modern apartment they’d spent the last two weeks together in.

Mixed feelings flooded Remus’ head and heart when he’d seen the empty flat that final morning. He knew he needed to get out of there, get away from the betrayal and pain that flared every time he turned the corner and glimpsed memories of better times. But there were flashes of the good moments through the murkiness. Marlene and Dorcas passed out together on the couch after a New Year’s party; James losing it as new-born Harry pulled at Sirius’ hair and chewed the ends; Lily telling Remus and Sirius she and James were engaged; Peter and Mary drunkenly doing karaoke as the rest of them danced around like utter twats, pissed and giggly.

But most prominent of course were the quiet moments in between friends’ visits and birthday parties, engagements and war strategizing. Just the times when he and Sirius would sit in front of the fire and listen to Bowie or T.Rex or something similar. Dark hair ticking Remus’ face when Sirius would climb along his body and kiss him, so softly. They would stay like that for hours.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck... he tricked you all, you stupid prick!_

Remus screams at himself when those memories re-surface. They aren’t even buried that deep, just laying low until Remus feels weak enough to torment himself. How long had he been playing Remus? Playing the whole Order?

Remus had shut the front door hard after that, Harry in his arms, all his earthly possessions at the new house already. He still didn’t know what Mary had done with the rest of Sirius’ stuff, but refused to ask her. He didn’t need any of it. Remus knew if he found the boxes he’d either burn the lot, or keep it all.

_Which is worse?_

He isn’t sure anymore.

In the new house, Remus likes the huge, open fireplace and that the whole downstairs is one open room. From the kitchen, Remus can watch Harry play on the carpet in front of the sofa as he makes their meals or drinks his tea. Upstairs, there are two bedrooms and a bathroom. One room for Harry and one for Remus, but he puts the boy’s crib in his bedroom when they first arrive. He doesn’t want to be too far away from Harry just yet, even if it’s only across one hallway.

For the most part, it’s a completely average and cosy countryside cottage. Except of course—

“The barrier charms are done.” Moody tells Remus as he limps his way through the front door, stooping slightly so he doesn’t hit his head on the top of the frame. The Auror’s huge, shining metal leg clunks against the wooden floor and his unsettling electric blue eye twists in its socket.

Remus watches as Harry half-walks, half-crawls towards Moody, wanting to investigate the metal foot.

“Thanks, Alastor.”

Harry pokes Moody’s leg and bashes it a few times as Moody drinks from his flask. Remus knows it’s not pumpkin juice. Oh, how he misses alcohol...

“Was there anything else, kid?”

Remus shakes his head, eyes still on Harry as he returns to playing on the floor with his garish plastic ‘developmental’ toys, “I don’t think so—oh! The Floo Network... I’ll need it activated. Can’t apparate with Harry.”

“Apparate?”

“Y’know, to get him to the Burrow during my _'time of the month.'”_

“Right.” Moody grumbles, shoving the flask away again, grumpily. He’s really not so bad, probably just annoyed that he is the one left on babysitting duty.

Remus sits next to Harry on the floor. He seems happy here at least. His little grin shows up more often, now, and his little lightning scar is starting to fade slightly as the weeks pass. Dumbledore had explained to him that it will never fully heal. Like Remus’ scars, Harry’s was inflicted upon him by magical means. It’s seems silly to think, but Remus likes that they share something. Something that marks them and their pain. But Remus won’t ever let anyone mark Harry again.

Thankfully, Harry’s stopped crying so much when Remus leaves his line of sight, even if the snowy owl plushie McGonagall gave him is still taken everywhere, and usually covered in saliva. But Remus is getting used to the gross parts about looking after a toddler. The most worrying thing is that Harry hasn’t started talking properly. He’s a year and a half, which, according to Molly’s millions of childcare books, means he should be doing that by now, even if it’s just a few one syllable words at a time.

Remus can’t remember if Harry was speaking more with his parents - _surely_ he would remember something as monumental as that? James wouldn’t have let him forget how proud he was of his boy - but he hopes Harry’ll start saying more soon. Once or twice, Remus has tried prompting Harry. To little success.

“ _Re-mus_ ,” he’d attempted, “ _Re-mus..._ no? Ok. What about... _‘my wonderful guardian, Remus Lupin?’_ ”

Molly had snickered at his attempts. Then at the confused stare Harry gave them both as they sat at the Burrow’s kitchen table with Ron, tea cupped in their hands. The twins had been flicking chewed paper balls at one another, and the sounds of the other boys playing with their father in the back garden echoed through the countryside.

“Just give him some time,” she’d told him gently.

Moody finishing with the Floo connection – making sure it stays untraceable – pulls Remus out of his head. Moody says goodbye hastily, leaving the house, garden _and_ the boundaries of the spells before apparating back to wherever he spends his time. The Ministry, perhaps? He’s still an Auror, and there are still plenty of dark wizards to catch. Currently, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement’s main priority is finding the last of Voldemort’s followers, so Remus guesses that is what Moody’s been up to.

Remus sighs and leans back against the sofa, running a hand over his face. He’s exhausted. Taking care of a kid is the most tiring thing he’s ever done; he’ll never understand how Molly and Arthur cope with multiple.

The fireplace is lit up, so he and Harry watch the flames as they rise and fall, crackling behind the safety grate. Harry is mesmerised by the sight, the warmth, the bright colours. Remus didn’t use the fire in the old flat while Harry was there, so this is a first for them, sitting within its warm circle. In his head there’s a voice telling him to make sure Harry doesn’t get too close or hurt himself, but Remus knows he won’t. Harry just continues watching, amazed.

“So, what shall we do for Christmas, Harry?” Remus asks.

Harry’s response is a sort of garbled agreement.

“Yeah,” Remus smiles, picking Harry up off the floor and sitting them both on the sofa. “Sounds good, kid.”

* * *

_Christmas Day, 1981_

They only have a small Christmas tree. Nothing special, just something Remus flung together a few days ago. Harry sat, eyes wide, watching intently as Remus charmed the decorations to move. The angel at the top even waves at the little boy during the day, mesmerising Harry every time. Remus had found them in a box from the apartment, one that had been tucked away in the loft. The decorations were from the first Christmas he’d moved in with Sirius. Remus remembered the day they spent decorating the whole flat using muggle lights and decorations, charming them to move and sing at random moments, frightening Peter so badly that he hurled his butterbeer across the living room.

Harry loves them.

Wrapping presents for an infant who doesn’t understand what they’re meant to do with them seemed like a huge waste of time. So, obviously, Remus did it anyway. Besides, it’s funny watching as Harry blinks at him in utter confusion. Remus just pokes his tongue out at the little boy, making him laugh, then rips the corner of one from Harry’s small collection of presents, hoping he’ll get the idea.

Well, it _kind of_ works...

Harry tugs at the paper until he starts thinking it’s a good idea to shove it in his mouth and chew; that’s when Remus takes over, finishing the job. It’s from the Weasley’s. A woolly blanket with an _H_ in the centre. Remus is completely grateful for Molly Weasley, who also wrapped box of chocolate frogs, a Christmas cake and some books for Remus.

Remus tells Harry, “We’ll go over later and say thank you later.”

He wraps the new blanket around the kid’s shoulders. It’s still dark outside, the fire isn’t lit yet and they are both still in their pyjamas.

Next is the first present from Remus. Harry helps open the package and watches in awe as miniature Quidditch figurines fly out from inside. Remus figured James would want Harry to be as obsessed with the game as he had been, so why not start early?

Harry grins as they hover around his head.

“These ones are also from me," he pushes a couple of smaller presents towards him, "and look, there’s a letter from Mary”

Remus opens Mary’s envelope. Inside is a postcard with a picture of Mary on the front, surrounded by her family - all in Santa hats - and hugging her grandmother tightly, a bright grin on her pretty face. It looks warm and sunny, and they are all standing on a white-sand beach with the bluest water Remus has ever seen behind them. She looks happy, and Remus is glad.

On the back, in Mary’s pretty writing, it says:

_Happy Christmas my darlings!_

_Missing you both so much. Remus, I hope you’re doing alright and having a good time with Harry. Let me know how things are going. I miss you, lovely._

_Guess what? I met a guy out here. Michael’s his name. He’s wonderful. I think you’d like him, Remus. I’m considering stealing him and taking him home with me when it’s time to go. Haha!_

_Sorry I couldn’t send presents, there’s very limited choice in owls out here, so I had to mail this the muggle way, and packages are bloody expensive! Hoping it gets to Molly in time, though. She said she’d send it to you._

_Call me soon? Please? I don’t have your new number. My granny’s one is at the bottom. Say hi to Harry for me!_

_Love you._

_Mary xx_

Remus smiles as he reads. He tries not to notice that she doesn't add 'see you soon' or imply she'll be back in the near future. But, still, he makes a silent promise to call as soon as he can. He misses Mary very much.

“Aunty Mary says hi, Harry.”

But he is occupied with his toys.

_Fair enough._

Finally, Harry finds the last present. Remus recognises the writing as McGonagall’s straight away.

_I thought you both deserved to have this. It was found in Godric’s Hollow and delivered to me anonymously with instructions to get it to you or Harry. I feared it was something dangerous, but were mistaken. Apologies for the late delivery._

_Merry Christmas, Remus._

_Minerva M._

Frowning, Remus gives it to Harry. _Godric's Hollow? Where was... oh. There..._

The paper is ripped off within a few moments, Harry getting the hang of opening presents now, and inside is a framed photograph in black and white, the picture moving. Harry clearly doesn’t understand why Remus is suddenly very still and very quiet.

It’s James and Lily, holding their son between them and grinning at Remus and Harry through the glass. Remus took that photo on a camera Lily got from Dorcas and Marlene that Christmas. He briefly wonders where the rest of the pictures are, then guesses they got destroyed when the house did. Both girls had been there that day, Mary too, wrapped up in multiple layers and complaining about the cold, holding hands, linking arms and shivering. He couldn't remember where Sirius and Peter were. Pete was probably at the Ministry, him being the only one with a job that didn't involve the war.

And Sirius? Maybe he had already started spying by then.

Harry was about six months old when it was taken, just after his first Christmas, watching snow fall onto his tiny nose and hands, smiling hugely. They were all laughing. _Godric,_ Remus can practically hear the wonderful sound through the picture. James’ loud bark of joy and Lily’s softer but equally striking giggle bouncing back. James had probably just said something funny and completely stupid. Remus wishes he could remember what it was.

Remus feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but forces a smile and pulls Harry onto his lap, just to hold onto something so the room stops spinning. He hasn’t seen their faces in months. Not since they went into hiding at the end of summer.

_Who had sent it to Minnie? Maybe Lils had right before they–_

_Shut up shut up shut up..._

Remus is cracking again, starting to shatter.

“Look at this, Harry.” He whispers.

The kid doesn’t understand at first, but reaches out and traces the moving image of his parents with his small fingers.

“Mama.”

Harry says simply, looking up, his dark hair tickling Remus’ chin. Remus laughs through his tears and kisses Harry’s head as his eyes start blurring.

“Yes. That's right.”

Harry’s face visibly crumbles when he realises Remus is crying, so he twists around, standing on Remus’ lap and leaning against his chest to wipe away the tears as they fall down his cheeks. The gesture makes more tears build, but at least Remus is smiling through them now.

It was something Lily would’ve done, something she _did_ do. Whenever Remus was upset or breaking down, she’d been the one he’d go to when the other’s weren’t there for him. When his mother died, Lily was there to brush away his tears, telling him that everything would be ok. After... after the "prank" in fifth year, she’d been there for Remus as well, even when he couldn’t bear to look James in the eye and convinced himself he hated Sirius. Even if he’d felt the complete opposite. During the war, if he fought with Sirius he couldn’t go to James, so he went to Lily. Who hugged him close, promising they would be alright in the end.

_You’re made for each other,_ she’d told him, _it’s just tough right now. For everyone, Remus._

The one time he needs her most of all and she can’t even be there, because she’s gone. So Harry is there instead.

“No more.”

Remus blinks, a little surprised that this is the moment Harry wants to start expanding his vocabulary.

“No more crying?”

Harry nods, solemnly, which makes Remus exhale a breathy laugh. He stands and places the photograph on the mantelpiece, reflecting James and Lily’s beaming faces with his own broken one.

Turning and seeing that Harry is stood up, shakily, but still. He crouches in front of him and Harry uses his face for support. “Ok then.”

“No more cry.” Harry tells him.

Remus chuckles at his bluntness and the way Harry pushes up the corners of Remus’ mouth until he is grinning for real.

“No more crying, Harry. I promise.”

He picks Harry up and swings him around in circles until he’s giggling like a maniac. “This better?”

Harry nods, his eyes sparkling with joy. “’gain! ‘gain!”

Remus is taken aback. “Where d’you learn all these new words, huh? Where have you been hiding them, Potter?”

Tickling Harry until he’s shrieking with delight, Remus lifts him towards the kitchen, laughing in unison, tears gone. Even if the embers of pain still burn hot in Remus’ chest when he sneaks glances at the picture. But Harry is happy, it’s Christmas, and Remus has a whole box of chocolate frogs to eat. And those things are all Remus really needs.


	6. Chapter Six: New Year, Old Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over 400 hits?? That's actually insane. You guys are amazing!
> 
> Sorry, this one is super long aha! 
> 
> Enjoy! x

## Chapter Six: New Year, Old Me

_New Year’s Eve, 1981 – 6pm -_

When New Year’s Eve arrives, Remus and Harry are invited to the Burrow for the celebration. Arthur explained to Remus that Moody helped place the same protection charms around their home as there are around his, since Harry would be spending time with them at least once a month, anyway. It was a safety precaution they needed to take, and one Remus was glad somebody had made.

By six o’clock, Remus is showered and dressed in a loose shirt, black jeans and a green cardigan. Nothing too special. It’s not a year worth celebrating. But he’s grateful for their invitation nonetheless, and Harry loves the company of the other kids. So, as Remus is pulling a jumper over Harry’s head, and trying to keep him from crawling away, he decides that going isn’t the worst idea in the world.

“Harry!” Remus says, exasperatedly.

But the sweater is eventually secured in place. Remus tries his shoes, next. There’s a lot of protest from Harry, he prefers wearing just socks.

“Stop it, you!” But the kid just laughs and kicks the slip-on trainers into Remus’ face.

“You know, if you stayed still this would be much easier.”

Apparently not giving a crap, Harry pinches Remus’ nose, smiling widely as he wriggles around on the living room floor, then stands up and tries to walk away.

Remus can’t help but smirk a little.

“Damn you, Potter,” he mutters to no one, “why’d you and Evans have to go and make such an adorable kid?”

Unconsciously, Remus waits for a response. A gentle shove from Lily, a ‘ _shut up you tosser’_ from James... but it’s quiet apart from Harry’s continuous giggling. And that hurts, but it’s ok. Well, it’s bearable, for the moment at least.

“Come here!”

Remus chases a struggling Harry as he waddles away a little too quickly and trips over his own feet.

_“Levioso!”_ He casts the spell in time and thankfully Harry doesn’t hit the floor, just floats on his front until Remus is there, picking him up. Harry is unaffected, still giggling away.

Remus laughs back, nervously, “Let’s try _not_ breaking our noses before Molly sees us, ok?”

Whether he understands or not, Harry beams.

Eventually he surrenders and Remus is able to get his tiny shoes on and wrap him in a coat. It started snowing in the afternoon and outside is still freezing.

Remus has no expectation that either of them will make it until midnight, but it’ll be nice to see Molly, Arthur and the boys. Since Christmas, Bill and Charlie had taken specific interest in Remus, possibly because he’s covered in scars and ten year old’s tend to find that sort of thing interesting - the marauders certainly had, one in particular. Or, possibly because he’s young and strange and hangs out at their house sometimes like a complete freak. Soon enough, Remus expects one of them will figure out what he is. But it’s only been one moon so far. They’re bright kids, though.

_I mean, the clues will all be there…_

The whispered conversations in the kitchen the morning after, the specific nights Harry will stay over, the many - _many_ \- scars. And it’s not like it’s a secret from them, really, it would just be scary to have a stranger coming to your house all the time and then suddenly announcing they’re a werewolf. A creature who can ruin your life in a single moment…

...

_Darkness. A flash of yellow teeth and the sharp stab of pain jolts up his side. There’s blood, lots. It’s hot and dark and thick; soaking his t-shit. It’s his favourite one._

_Pain, pain, pain..._

_Mummy is screaming as she clutches him, kissing his head and asking if her baby is ok. What just happened? Daddy throws curses over his head and chases someone –_ something _– into the woods. Shouting over and over and over._

_Remus cries until he passes out..._

...

Yeah, just one moment.

Re-living those awful memories is still better than the ones of times with his friends. Remus knows it’s strange, but the physical pain seems to be less damaging than the emotional, despite the fact one leaves actual scars. His fingers brush the area just above his hip where the bite still remains. He hated it once. Then a boy promised him he was beautiful and kissed every single scar on his body, changing Remus’ naïve mind.

He hates them all, now.

“Go?” Harry asks, bringing Remus back.

Harry watches him, eyes curious and staring. He’s been getting much better at learning new words. It’s nice for Remus to have someone to talk to and hear them speaking back, even if it’s mostly incoherent nonsense or one-syllable words. Anything is better than the eerie silence or the horrible voices screaming in his own head. Maybe it’s just himself.

Remus sighs and looks down at Harry who is sat on the sofa.

“Yeah, let’s go.” He tells the little boy.

Picking up the bottle of champagne and Harry’s baby bag, Remus takes Harry in his arms and steps into the fireplace. The Floo Network has never been Remus’ favourite travel technique, but it’s the one that is safest for Harry, so he puts up with the numbing and gut-twisting sensation for his sake.

“The Burrow!” He speaks clearly.

Throwing the powder to his feet, he covers Harry’s eyes so he’s not blinded by the sudden flare of light. The green flames swallow them whole, leaving the house behind.

* * *

_-11:30 pm -_

A few hours later, and Remus is ever so slightly – or incredibly - drunk...

In his defence, when he agreed to come over he hadn’t been expecting what was left of the Order of the Phoenix to be there as well. He and Harry arrived just after 6:30, and as soon as he’d stepped out of the Weasley’s fireplace, he caught sight of Moody and Kingsley sharing an intense conversation by the open backdoor, cigarettes in hand.

_Oh, lovely, lovely cigarettes..._

Both men turned in Remus’ direction as he approached. Kingsley looked the same as ever, his expression friendly but serious, his eyes widening ever so slightly when he saw Harry. Moody gave Remus a quick nod.

“Molly’s round the corner with the kids.”

“Thanks.” Remus had replied, throat dry.

The two of them moved aside so Remus could leave the kitchen and quickly returned to their previous discussion. Remus walked away slowly and caught a bit of it.

“—and now _Malfoy’s_ claiming he was under the Imperius Curse the whole bloody time.” Kingsley told Moody, “Fucking ridiculous. We saw him in those battles, we saw him first-hand, Alastor. He was there of his own volition!”

“He has power at the Ministry. There’s no touching him.” Moody grumbled in response. “And he has a son. I doubt he wants to spend the rest of his life locked away in Azkaban like the rest of them. Would gladly go against his failed Dark Lord.”

“No loyalties then?”

“No, not like others. Like Black, for instance. Reports say he doesn’t do anything but laugh manically for hours on end saying how it’s his fault and how he ‘failed’. Failed his master, failed his cause.”

“Completely mad... And Harry! _The Boy Who lived,_ Black would kill him if he ever had the chance. Destroyed Voldemort _._ He’s got the scar. So it’s really true that he defeated—"

Remus had heard enough.

He hurried around the corner and found Molly and some of her children on the patio. Bill and Charlie were playing with sparklers as the twins rolled around in the snow, throwing snowballs at their big brothers - especially Percy, who didn’t seem to know which pair to hang around with. Perks of being right in the middle.

Still shaken up, Remus sat Harry down on the outside table and gave Molly a brief kiss on the cheek.

“Hiya.”

“You look pale, Remus.” She touched his face, feeling for a fever. Like a big sister, he supposed. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Hm? Oh, um, no- I mean- yes, yes I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it...”

“Molly I’m fine. Just... didn’t expect to see so many people.”

She frowned, “You mean Kingsley and Alastor? Arthur invited them last minute. Lots of stress at the Ministry, so he thought it would be nice.”

“Oh.”

“Also the Lovegoods - they live over the hill – have you met Xenophilius, Pandora and their daughter?

“I don’t think so, no.”

Molly smiled, “Oh, well I’ll introduce you.”

“Sounds good.”

“Oh! And, um, Andy and Ted Tonks will be here soon with their daughter. You remember Dora? She’s on Christmas break from Hogwarts and— Remus? Are you sure you’re ok?”

His breathing and heartrate had been increasing since he over-heard all that stuff about Sirius and Harry moments ago, and the lengthening list of invitees wasn’t helping. Especially not Andromeda. She’d given up and lost so much throughout the war, even before Remus had joined, but Remus couldn’t bear to face her, not so soon.

Molly was starting to worry. He could tell.

“I’m fine.” He assured her. “I’ll take Harry inside I think. It’s a bit too cold. Where’s Ron?”

She was still looking concerned but allowed Remus to move the conversation along. “With Arthur. Upstairs maybe? Be quiet, though, Ginny’s sleeping.”

“Ok.” Remus picked up Harry just before he could shove a fistful of snow in his mouth, “C’mon, let’s go find Ron, yeah?”

“Won!”

_Ah, close enough._

He’d found Arthur and Ron coming down the stairs and managed to hand Harry to them, making the excuse he needed the loo, then went straight to the drinks bar. Champagne was too light, he needed something like—yes! Firewhisky, perfect...

Hours later, in the present, just as the clock ticks past 11:30, Remus sways a little on his feet, stumbles into the sofa, then into a tall blonde man who he almost mistakes for Lucius Malfoy before noticing he’s wearing bright yellow robes and is actually smiling. Remus apologises and makes his way to the backdoor. Moody and Kingsley are gone,. Outside, the cold air smacks him in the face, white snowflakes landing gently on his nose and eyelashes, melting when they make contact with his burning skin.

Harry fell asleep just after nine, Ron quickly after, and soon the only kids left awake were Bill, a very tired-looking Charlie who insists he can make it to midnight, and Nymphadora Tonks, Andy’s daughter.

Remus had been avoiding everyone for hours.

In the garden, Remus drinks the dregs from the bottle of Firewhisky and takes out a cigarette that he thinks he was offered by Moody, but he can’t remember when. When he inhales the smoke, he’s involuntarily transported back to the first time it snowed properly at school. Fourth year, the Christmas after his mother died. All his friends stayed at school that winter holiday because he couldn’t stomach going home and they didn’t want him to be alone. One day sticks out in his head as he stands on the snow-covered ground...

...

_“Come on, Moony!” Sirius whined._

_“It’s cold!”_

_“Obviously, otherwise the lake wouldn’t be frozen over and the squid would eat us.”_

_Remus sighed, “I don’t want to.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I told you, it’s cold. Ask Potter, he’ll say yes.”_

_Sirius huffed, “Can’t, he’s got a detention with Pete.”_

_“It’s the holidays.”_

_“Marauders don’t stop pranking for anyone, Moony, not even Father Christmas.” He winked._

_“Sirius, I really can’t. I-it’s a full moon soon and my... hip aches. Sorry.”_

_Sirius laughed, “Bullshit. You’re worried, aren’t you?” But before Remus could protest, Sirius continued, “A werewolf who’s scared of ice-skating… don’t see that every day, do you?”_

_“Piss off.”_

_“What if I promise you a hot chocolate,_ and _the rest of Christmas break quietly reading in here like you so desperately want to?”_

_Remus considered this for a moment._

_“Whipped cream?”_

_“I’ll even throw in a croissant...”_

_“It_ would _be a croissant with you.” Remus rolled his eyes and muttered._

_He sighed again. He could really do with that right about now. But the rest sounded like an awful idea. Ice skating was not something Remus would be good at. But bloody posh-boy Sirius_ obviously _knew how to skate. Sirius ‘I-spent-four-Christmases-in-Stockholm-learning’ Black. But he was giving Remus those puppy-dog eyes and half-smirk that made his stomach flip... for some reason...._

_“Ugh, fine!”_

_“Yes Moony. You beauty!”_

_Sirius lunged at him then, and it felt strange. He and Remus were best friends, but not touchy like Sirius and James were. The dark-haired boy pulled away quickly, avoiding Remus’ eyes, and cleared his throat._

_Remus closed his book and put on the outdoors clothes Sirius had chucked at him before he’d started pestering him with all this ice-skating stuff. Then he grabbed the extra pair of skates that Sirius was holding._

_“Should we go down then?”_

_“Excuse me?!”_

_“Downstairs...? To the lake?”_

_“Oh!” Was Sirius blushing? “Oh, I- right, yeah. Totally. Let’s go. It’ll be great, Moony. You’ll see.”_

_“Yeah, yeah..."_

_..._

It had been great. The snow fell for hours. Sirius had taught Remus the basics, skating backwards and holding Remus’ hands as he dragged them both across the frozen lake. Remus remembers the colour of his own cheeks afterwards, but doesn’t know if it was because of the sub-zero temperatures or the fact Sirius had been touching him for hours, collapsing beside him when they fell over. Remus had been absolutely terrible at skating, but it was worth it.

“Remus!” Someone shouts from the house, “The countdown is starting!”

He turns to see everyone gathering outside; Kingsley performing some sort of spell in the air. After a few seconds, Remus realises he’s constructing a massive, glowing clockface. The remaining children all wave around magical sparklers that draw dragons and their own names. Arthur and Moody are setting up Filibuster's Fireworks at the end of the lawn.

Staggering back to the patio, Remus stands away from Andromeda and her family, leaning against the wall of the house and smoking slowly. The final ten seconds flash up in bright numbers on the clock, and everyone starts counting down. Remus can’t help but count down all the terrible things that happened in the past year alone...

“Ten!” _Harry’s first New Year’s - which Remus missed because he was on a mission for the Order._

“Nine!” _The Bone’s family massacre._

“Eight!” _Gideon and Fabian Prewetts death’s._

“Seven!” _Remus was instructed to track the pack._

“Six!” _Harry’s first birthday - which no one attended because the Potters were told to lie low_

“Five!” _Marlene, her family and Dorcas were murdered._

“Four!” _There was a spy in the Order._

“Three!” _James, Lily and Harry went to Godric’s Hollow._

“Two!” _Sirius was made Secret Keeper..._

“One!” _Sirius betrayed them..._

“Happy New Year!” _Sirius killed Peter and Lily and James..._

So much pain. So much death and hurt, and so, so many funerals. Remus takes a shaky breath and everything is quiet, a deadly silence. Everything is moving in slow motion. He tries to walk, but his feet won’t move, so he stays leaning against the house as everyone cheers and celebrates, the adults drinking their champagne.

Remus tells himself he’ll be ok. He makes himself promises and feels genuinely happy when Harry smiles at him. But the truth, is he’ll never be ok. Not fully. Because he knows that part of him died this year. And nothing will ever bring that part of him back to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to post daily chapters so far, but from now on I have exams and stuff, but I'll try to update every few days or so. 
> 
> Also, a massive thank you to everyone who gave this story Kudos and to those of you who've been commenting. It really makes me happy to know people are enjoying this!
> 
> (And I know canonically Dorcas died before Marlene, but I like to think they died together. Because I love making myself cry as much as possible apparently...)


	7. Chapter Seven: Seasons Of Love - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very time-jumpy one. Basically the moments from the first six months of 1982, each documented by a section of this chapter, then the final half of 1982 will be the next chapter. 
> 
> I want Sirius to come back, but I think there needs to be some time for Remus to grieve before everything he thinks he knows comes crashing down (I'm so cruel I'm sorry...) 
> 
> so this is mostly just Remus and Harry bonding stuff.
> 
> Hope you enjoy x

## Chapter Seven: Seasons Of Love – Part One

_January, 1982_

Remus watches Harry playing in the snow at least once a day for most of the month. It seems to be never-ending, like the weather doesn’t want to let go of Christmas and move on into the new year. Remus feels the complete opposite. He would love nothing more than to let go of the last year and move on with Harry. Make a new life for himself. For them together.

“Re!” Harry shouts from where he’s sat on the rug on the floor. The fireplace is roaring, warming their little home. 

So far “Re” is as far as Harry’s been able to get with Remus’ name, but he doesn’t mind. It’s nice to be able to have a nickname that belongs completely to Harry. Like they share something that’s _just_ between them. After calling Mary multiple times to see how she’s doing, she suggested trying to get Harry to call him his old school nickname instead of his actual name which was proving more challenging to learn. But _‘Moony’_ felt too close to home, and much too painful to hear from anyone.

Remus turns away from the boiling kettle to Harry, who is flipping through three kids’ colouring books in one go, and now watching through the window excitedly as more and more snow falls gently to the ground.

“More snow, huh?.”

Harry asks, “Play?”

“ _After_ lunch.” Remus tells him, Harry’s smile drops slightly at the implication that they won’t be playing outside anytime soon. “There will be more by the time we’ve finished.”

Remus flicks his wand and Harry floats across the room towards him, his face bright once again. He loves it when Remus makes him fly like a superhero in those muggle comics they see at the shops, or like the Quidditch toys he got for Christmas. Harry lands in Remus’ arms and he sits the boy against his hip. It’s still a little sore from the moon a few nights ago, but he doesn’t want Harry noticing.

“So… what do we want to eat?”

“Choc-fog!”

Harry turned out to be a surprisingly fast learner when it came to new words, Remus discovered. Unfortunately, he’s mainly got Remus to teach him these new words.

“Chocolate frogs for lunch? I’m officially a bad influence.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon in the snow, wrapped in scarfs and hats and gloves, enjoying the peacefulness. There are no other houses around for about a mile, just the woods and the fields and their cottage. Remus builds Harry a snowman with his magic while the kid stares in awe as the huge snowballs are rolled around the lawn and stones fly out of the ground to give it facial features. Harry giggles when Remus charms the snowman to wave at him and tip his hat.

“’Gain!”

Remus laughs, “Ok, Potter.”

It’s a good day. It takes Remus mind off of most of his troubles as he watches the dark-haired boy have so much fun. Wabbling around as he learns how to walk. At one point, Harry falls into a deep patch of snow, disappearing into it like it’s swallowed him whole, emerging soon enough but looking shocked by the cold. After that snowflakes land on Harry’s little eyelashes and fall onto his pink cheeks every time he tries blinking them away.

“Look at you.” Remus sighs, picking up the child and brushing the snow out of his hair. Harry mirrors Remus, tugging at his blonde curls until he decides there’s none left.

“Inside time. Pyjamas and dinner?”

Harry nods.

“Chocolate frogs, as well.” Remus remembers.

Harry’s smile only grows. Remus takes that as a ‘yes’.

Two weeks later, Lily’s birthday passes. Remus manages to hold himself together during the day for Harry’s sake, but as soon as he’s asleep, Remus starts drinking and smoking. Again. It’s not until hours later that he realises he’s crying, too.

* * *

_February, 1982_

The snow is gone a few weeks later, leaving only the muddy, frosty, bitter cold behind. Harry and Remus spend most days inside, cosied up in front of the fire, reading picture books and listening to Remus’ record collection. He hasn’t used the TV in a while, but has always prefered the music to the dull chatter of people on the muggle networks. He’s become so influenced by magical norms over the many years of hanging out with purebloods, that he tends to forget muggle inventions even exist. He hardly touches the TV now, and only uses the phone when Mary calls.

She’s still not come home after two months.

Harry sits contently as they lounge about on the sofa for another day, but Remus knows how much he misses the fun they had outside.

Instead of moping about, Remus does everything he can to keep Harry entertained, especially when the rainy season arrives early and confines them indoors. One morning, he brings Harry downstairs to an enchanted winter wonderland. Unmelt-able snow and icicles, of course.

Sirius and James had done something similar in third year to the Great Hall. It was one of the pranks they’d accomplished without getting caught or blamed. All the students had arrived for breakfast one morning in December, and the House tables had been covered in snow. Remus had been complaining about the lack of snow for Christmas, and this had been the boys’ solution. It snowed for real the next day.

Some of the first and second years started a huge, inter-house snowball fight, and Remus managed to hit Snape in the face as he strode in. Even the Slytherins, moody little Regulus included, had snorted at that. Sirius laughed so hard he had to clutch his side and sit down for a while. _Bloody brilliant Moony,_ he’d shouted through barks of laughter. Remus tells himself he didn’t feel his insides twist at the sound of Sirius’ joy, but like usual, he’s probably lying to himself.

Most people knew it had to have been the Marauders - as they’d been branded by then - but since none of the staff could actually prove it, they were let off. School had been cancelled for the day to clean up, which Lily didn’t appreciate one bit. Obviously _she_ knew it had something to do with James and Sirius, and wouldn’t let them forget it for the rest of term, much to James’ distress.

Remus shakes his head. No need to go down memory lane, this is for Harry, not for him.

“Like it, Potter?”

Harry walk-crawls into the living room and grabs fistfuls of snow, throwing it above his head, snickering. “Snow!”

Remus mumbles to himself, smiling. “Well done, Lupin.”

* * *

_March, 1982_

The month of birthdays began with Ron. Remus and Harry visited the Burrow on March 1st with their gift and spent the day with the Weasley’s. Remus apologised _again_ for New Year’s, and Molly insisted it was all right. _You had a tough year, Remus,_ she’d said in her sweet tone, _we all did._ But her sympathy and kindness only made things worse. She’d lost both her younger brothers, as well as many friends just like he had, but she wasn’t getting hammered and passing out at a New Year’s party. He was supposed to be Harry’s role model, not a fucked up twenty-one-year-old kid with a life full of tragedy. Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t room for both.

There was a cake that day, which appeased all the kids, including Harry who helped Ron blow out the candles. To absolutely no one’s surprise, all children under five-years-old ended up with icing covering their hands and faces.

Ten days later it was Remus’ birthday. He insisted on not making a big deal and stays home with Harry. He’s lying on his bed and keeping Harry company – or Harry’s keeping _him_ company, he isn’t sure - while the kid is napping in their room. That’s when he hears the owl arrive.

It seems to have flown straight into the kitchen window glass pane. The brown bird pulls itself together as Remus opens the window for it and takes the two packages tied to its leg. He recognises the bird as the Weasley’s family owl, Errol.

“Oh, Molly...”

The owl squawks and flies off again, rather shakily.

There’s a small brown package and a larger one which, Remus can smell, contains a chocolate cake. She _really_ shouldn’t have. Mary sent him a card and a book she found while in New York. She explained in her letter that she’s travelling for a while with Michael, the boy she met in Jamaica. She’d sent Remus many pictures of the two of them as they made their way up the East Coast. She looked happy, so Remus lets her stay that way.

No need to drag her back home into the pit of hurt she’s escaped.

Remus didn’t want gifts or birthday wishes because the day just pulls up painful memories. Friends singing ‘happy birthday’ at the table in the Great Hall, jumping on his bed at ridiculous times in the morning to give him presents, pranking Snivellus for extra entertainment.

And the later years, when he would wake up to Sirius trailing kisses down his neck and across his chest. _Happy birthday to me,_ Remus would whisper, letting Sirius continue. He’d relish in the feel the other boy’s smile as his lips pressed against his scarred skin and mouth.

Remus opens the package slowly and removes a small black box. Inside is a wrist watch. It’s made in a muggle style and shines when it catches the light, but it doesn’t burn to the touch, so Remus guesses it only _appears_ to be made of silver. On the front is a seemingly normal clock-face, but when he clicks the time adjuster, a picture of him and Harry shows up. They’re both smiling goofily at the camera then back at each other, Harry on Remus’s lap. It was a picture taken on Christmas day.

_It’s beautiful._

More than a little choked up, Remus silently thanks the Weasleys. Upstairs, Harry wakes up from his nap and starts crying. Remus places the gifts on the kitchen counter and rushes back to him.

“It’s ok, it’s ok, I’m here. _Shh... shh.”_

Harry’s green eyes are watery and his cheeks are flushed when Remus finds him. But calms down a little when Remus picks him up and holds him against his chest.

“That’s better.” Remus whispers.

Harry whimpers slightly, his tiny bottom lip trembling.

“Have a bad dream?” Remus asks softly, “I do all the time. Nightmares are horrible. But you’re safe, now. You’re not going to be hurt by anyone _ever_ again.”

Remus kisses Harry’s head, just above his little lightning scar, and tries not to let his own tears fall. Twenty-two years old... how many of his friends will never reached twenty-two? It’s too depressing to consider...

On the 27th, when James’ birthday arrives, Remus takes Harry to the Burrow when he realises he won’t be responsible enough to take care of him. He apparates to London and wanders the more dodgy streets until he finds a club. Inside, he drinks and drinks, chain-smokes; makes out with strangers. And an attractive guy Remus is dancing with, buying drinks for and kissing, starts pulling him towards the men’s bathroom, Remus doesn’t stop him.

He needs to forget about his dead friends for a while.

* * *

_April, 1982_

Spring comes into full bloom. Harry’s walking has improved so much that he starts learning to run instead. The door to the garden is open most days, and Remus sits on the back porch, smoking, watching Harry rush about the grass. He stumbles a lot, but he’s a tough kid, standing right back up and continuing to chase his own shadow.

The garden looks more alive in the Springtime. Remus likes that there’s colour returning to his world again. Every time he spots a new daffodil in the near-empty flowerbeds or daisies growing on the grass, he lets out a breath, a sigh. Relief? _No._.. _Maybe?_ It’s as if he’s been living in black and white for the last six months, but he’s finally returning to some sense of normality.

Some days, he wraps Harry in a jacket and wellies and they walk up the hill to the nearby village. It’s a mile or so, but Remus carries Harry on his shoulders, and he enjoys the exercise and fresh air. It’s probably good for Remus’ lungs that he’s not just inhaling recycled air and cigarette smoke all day.

The village isn’t anything special, just a small collection of cottages, a village green and park, a local primary school – which must have about twelve students – and a pub. The Black Crow.

Inside, Harry’s eyes dart around, trying to take everything in at once. The bar, the people sat at it, those nosy tossers who turn to see who’s entered, the young man behind the bar with tattoos who raises an eyebrow as Remus and Harry approach. He glances between the two of them; Remus picks up Harry and rests him against his hip. The man clearly sees the differences in them. Harry’s brown skin and dark hair, Remus’ light skin, freckles and blonde curls.

“Um, anything non-alcoholic?” Remus asks the bartender.

He’s probably a year or two older than Remus, with dark curls and sun-tanned skin. “It’s a pub, mate.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got a kid with me... mate.”

He smirks a little, “J2O?”

Remus gets Harry the orange one, some chips and—

“—a pint, please.”

“Golly, you’re polite.” The guy grins.

Remus wants to roll his eyes, but refrains from doing so, pays for their food and drink, and leads Harry outside where it’s warm in the sun. He takes them to a wooden bench and Harry sips his juice – which Remus had asked to be poured into one of his baby cups. Glass bottles were a definite no-go for a clumsy toddler.

“Yummy?”

Harry nods firmly, and Remus laughs a little, closing his eyes and letting the sun warm his face. He gulps his beer.

“I agree, Potter.” 

* * *

_May, 1982_

Harry chases the wolf around the garden. It’s sunny, and the kid had looked bored out of his mind. So Remus produced his Patronus, which happens to be the wolf (which is sometimes more than a little disturbing) and Harry squeals, chasing it around the lawn. Remus holds his wand in his hand lazily and reads his book, basking in the early summer sunshine. It’s warm, but not too hot, which is perfect because Remus likes layers, but he also likes _not_ freezing his arse off.

For hours they stay in the garden. Remus smokes a few cigarettes, then feels shitty afterwards, but Harry’s cheeky grin is enough for him to stay sane. Just before dinner, Remus packs Harry’s overnight bag and prepares him for the Burrow.

“Ron!”

Remus smiles, his back is starting to ache and his head is already crowded with thoughts and emotional pain, but at least Harry is excited to be going for his monthly sleepover.

“Yes, we’ll go see Ron, and Molly and Arthur, and the boys and baby Ginny.” Remus tells him as he flings Harry’s bag over his shoulder.

“Re stay too?”

Remus hates this part. The moment Harry wonders where he’s going. The realisation that he’s not going to be there to read him a bedtime story or cuddle him if he has a nightmare.

“I can’t, Harry,” he explains, “but I’ll be there when you wake up in the morning, ok?”

For an almost two-year-old, he’s incredibly bright and mature. Harry nods, even if he doesn’t understand everything entirely, and holds Remus hand as they head to the fireplace.

The Burrow’s living room is crowded when Remus and Harry arrive. Percy is so shocked to see them that he tosses his book half-way across the room into Fred’s lap, who takes the opportunity to get his sticky little fingers all over the pages, quickly joined by George who just laughs manically and runs off with it, followed by his twin and older brother.

“Oi! Come back!”

Percy and the twins rush past Molly as she enters the room.

“Remus!” Molly hugs him, picks up Harry and gives him a kiss on the forehead. “Everything alright boys?”

“As good as possible.” Remus replies, a bit solemnly. Molly shoots him a sympathetic look.

“Ron?” Harry asks.

“In the kitchen, darling, we’ll go and see him shall we?”

“See you in the morning, Harry.” Remus tells the boy, brushing his hair out of his face.

He needs it cut. Remus tells himself to remember to find someone to do it. Harry’s hair is exactly like James’. All messy and endearing, but never staying in one place. It’s scary how much Harry looks like his father sometimes. When he’s older, will Remus even be able to tell the difference if he stood far away? Up close, his eyes give him away, though. All Lily.

“Bye-bye.” Harry says sadly, waving his small hand, but smiles again when Molly mentions Ron.

They head into the kitchen and Remus walks towards the backdoor so he can apparate to a forest for the transformation. Out in the garden, Charlie and Bill are playing Quidditch again as the sun sets. Bill has a proper broom now. He’ll be starting Hogwarts in September, Remus recalls.

“Lupin!”

“Hiya, Bill,” Remus waves, “Charlie beating you again?”

In the same breath they both say:

“Not a chance!”

“Obviously!”

Remus chuckles and wanders down the garden as the brothers start an argument about whether or not a certain goal counted. Smiling, Remus apparates from the Burrow. Landing somewhere in New Forest. His smile is gone by the time the moon has risen. Replaced with snarling teeth and a thirst for blood and the crunch of bones.

* * *

_June, 1982_

The summer comes along in a blast of heat. Remus enchants fans to follow him and Harry around when the temperatures are at their peak. Muggle air-conditioning isn’t an option in their house, Remus made some inquiries, but it’s not so bad all of the time. Harry runs everywhere now. Remus finds it hard to keep up with all his antics.

One morning, he wakes up to find Harry out of his bed and in the living room with his miniature Quidditch players. Six of them fly around his head in formation as Harry chases the Seeker around the furniture.

“How did you get down here?”

Harry giggles and runs as Remus tries to catch up with him. Eventually, Remus just flicks his wand and Harry comes zooming into his arms, laughing loudly.

“Fly! Fly! Fly!”

Remus taps his nose, “Silly boy. What if you’d fallen down the stairs, huh?”

Harry just grins.

_Ah, well, I tried._


	8. Chapter Eight: Seasons Of Love - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two of 1982! I'm sorry it's so long guys.
> 
> Read until the end... I promise it's going to pick up from here :)

## Chapter Eight: Seasons Of Love – Part Two

_July, 1982_

Remus makes a bold choice in gift for a two-year-old, but he knows it’s an investment for years to come, and he knows how excited Harry will be when he sees what it is. It’s probably the present Harry would want most in the world. Well, after his parents, of course, and they are probably all he’d wish for if he understood what had happened.

On July 31st, Harry crosses the landing, jumps on top of Remus in bed, grinning.

“Remy! My birthday!”

Harry decided that he wanted his own room a few weeks ago. So now he sleeps in a tiny kids’ bed across the hall. Remus will wake up some mornings and have Harry tucked under the duvet with him, but he just cuddles him close and goes back to sleep. If nightmares are the trauma Harry’s left with after what happened last year, Remus will always be there for him.

Remus bombards Harry with tickles and cherishes the squeals of joy that escape him as he struggles against the attack. Harry manages to crawl away and flings himself on top of Remus, winding him. 

“Oopsie.”

“It’s ok.” Remus assures him, rubbing his scratched-up chest over his shirt. Then he frowns dramatically, feigning confusion. “Now, what is it that happens on someone’s birthday...?”

“Presents!”

“Huh? No, no you haven’t got any this year...”

“What’s‘zat then?”

Harry, bouncing up and down, points over Remus’ shoulder where a small, brightly-coloured package lays on his night table.

“Oh that? No that’s for me, silly.”

“No!” Harry giggles. “It’s not.”

Remus sighs heavily, “ _Fine._ I guess you can have it.” He reaches for the present and sits up, pulling Harry onto his lap and watching him tear the paper open.

It’s from Diagon Alley. He’d asked Molly if she would find the present for him, but paid her back as soon as she delivered it. Remus just couldn’t face going back there. She was more than happy to go, though, and made it part of Bill’s Hogwarts supplies day. Remus remembers the first time he went to Diagon Alley with his parents eleven years ago, all wide-eyed and intrigued by everything the wizard street had to offer – especially the sweet shops and ice-cream parlour...

The _actual_ magical shops had been fine as well.

Everything had seemed so incredible back then, now he just sees it as another battle ground where he’d lost too many friends. It was a different lifetime.

Harry’s present isn’t actually wrapped up in the paper. It’s a small box with a key in it. Harry finds Remus’ eyes and looks utterly confused. Bless him. Remus takes the little gold key from his hand.

“Come on.”

Remus picks him up and they go downstairs in their pyjamas. On the kitchen table is the real present. Harry’s eyes burst out of his head, practically leaping from Remus’ arms and is at the table in a matter of seconds.

“You like it, then?”

“RE-REMY!”

“You need to be a quieter or you’ll scare her.”

Standing before Harry on the wooden table is a golden bird cage. Inside is the tiniest, fluffiest snowy owl perched on the stand, eating some food Remus left her overnight. Her feathers are still grey and the huge yellow eyes look comical on her face, but Harry is bouncing on his bare feet, holding in squeals of delight. He turns and runs at Remus, who has to crouch down as Harry comes crashing into his arms, hugging him tightly.

“Thanks, Remy.” Harry whispers, his cheek pressed against Remus’ shoulder.

Remus just about dies.

“So... good present?” He asks.

Since Harry can’t do magic out of school for a while, at least legally, Remus figured a practical way of opening her cage would be best, even if he isn’t going to let Harry keep the actual key anytime soon. It’s far too small and easily the right size to be accidentally swallowed or lost.

“Best present.”

Harry goes back to the owl and the two of them watch each other intensely. Green eyes on yellow. She seems to like him. So Remus takes her cage from the table and puts it on the floor where Harry sits, crossed-legged, talking in toddler nonsense to his new friend.

“She’s called Hedwig, Harry.” Remus says while he makes a cup of tea and waits for the _Daily Prophet_ to arrive.

He watches Harry as he stumbles over the syllables a few times, but eventually gets the hang of it and spends a good amount of time repeating, “Head-wig, head-wig...”

“Anyway, you’re the birthday boy,” Remus interrupts, “you should decide what we have for breakfast—”

“Pancakes!”

“Chocolate pancakes?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

And that’s how they spend their morning. Harry declares it the _‘best day’_ as Remus tucks him into bed that night, Hedwig’s cage secured firmly in the corner of his little bedroom by the window. She watches the sun setting and seems eager to be outside, but not tonight, she needs to learn that Harry is her person before she’s allowed to start leaving the house to go hunting. Besides, Moody needs to perform the same spell on her that he did to Errol and the Ministry owls who deliver the _Prophet_ every morning. The spell that means uninvited owls are kept out but these specific ones aren’t.

Remus ruffles Harry’s hair and stands up, waving his wand to turn on the little night-light by the door. Once the curtains are closed, the room is lit dimly in an orange glow.

“Night Harry.” Remus whispers.

Harry’s breathing evens out and Remus knows he’s asleep.

He heads back downstairs and takes out his cigarettes, sitting out on the porch by the back door, and smokes. He wonders what James and Lily would think of Remus’ birthday for their son. He inwardly believes they would be thankful and happy that Harry’s being taken care of, but even Remus isn’t sure if he’s lying to himself anymore.

_Disappointed it was him who betrayed you and not me?_

_Are you sorry Harry ended up with a monster for a guardian...?_

Remus sighs out smoke and runs his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends slightly. It’s getting long. Sirius wanted him to grow it longer, said it was cute when it flopped into his eyes.

He needs to get it cut.

As smoke drifts around his head, he lies back against the wooden planks and watches the sky turning from orange to pink to blue and full of stars; his head swims with thoughts. Only one of them is clear and completely cohesive.

“I just fucking miss you.” He whispers to the sky.

But he doesn’t know who he’s talking about anymore.

* * *

_August, 1982_

They walk into town holding hands. Harry skips along beside Remus as they make their way down the streets, past people sat in their front gardens enjoying the end of summer and past the empty primary school.

“Park?” Harry asks.

Remus gives in and lets Harry rush towards the swings. Remus helps him into one and pushes as Harry shouts _‘more, Remy!’_ over and over. There are a few other children there, too. But they’re mostly older, and the few adults give Remus a funny expression as he passes with Harry in his arms. Maybe it’s because he’s ‘ _surely too young to have a child’ –_ he hears someone whisper _,_ or perhaps it’s because the two of them look nothing alike.

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.”

“Where?”

Remus is about to respond when he catches sight of a man watching them. He wears dark glasses over his eyes, but his hair is sandy. He’s short, and strangely familiar for some reason, but Remus can’t quite place why. Then he notices the way the man grips his jacket sleeve – it’s the way any wizard would to check their wand was secure.

“Harry we need to go. Now.”

Remus picks Harry up before he can ask any questions, and walks off as fast as he can without arousing suspicion. Feeling for his wand, which is tucked into the waistband of his jeans under his thin sweater, he takes Harry back to the crowded part of the village where there are more people. Less likely someone will do something if there are witnesses to tell about what they saw. Once there, Remus slows a little, but keeps the pace steady as they move down the street.

Glancing over his shoulder is a mistake. The wizard is clearly following them from a distance, his thinning blonde hair shining in the sun, but he's not going for his wand. Doing surveillance work? And for who? The war is over. Who is it they’re after, Remus or Harry? Both options are plausible. Remus is a werewolf, and Harry is a toddler with more enemies than any other wizard in the world. There are plenty of people who would be glad to get their hands on either of them.

Remus rounds a corner and sees they’re in front of the Black Crow pub. He makes the decision to go inside, but tries to act as normally as possible for Harry’s benefit. There’s no need to scare him or make him ask questions.

“Ok Harry, how about we go for a drink, yeah?”

“I want to play.” The kid whines.

“We can play later, I promise.” He explains as best he can. “For now we need to have a drink.”

“M’kay.”

“Good boy.”

The pub is crowded, thank Godric. Remus, with Harry attached to his hip, strides through the happy drinkers and those who are catching up with friends for a Saturday afternoon beer, until they reach the bar. He checks over his shoulder, but Remus doesn’t see the blonde man anywhere, not even through the windows.

“Ok... we’re ok.” He mutters to no one.

“I wouldn’t say ‘ok’. You look a bit spooked, mate.”

Remus turns back to the bar and sees the same dark-haired, tan-skinned, tattooed bartender. Since the first time he and Harry had come to the Black Crow, Remus has seen him around, but made sure to avoid ordering from him. He's far too chatty and Remus didn’t need that most days. Today isn't really one of them.

“I’m not spooked.”

“Whatever, Mr ‘Got-anything-non-alcoholic-at-this-bar?’” The guy smirks, filling a pint and handing it to the man a few stools down from Remus.

“Fine. Do you have anything _very_ alcoholic?”

He laughs, dark curls falling into his face. “That’s much better. For you or for the kid?”

“Oh, him for sure.” Remus replies, glancing over his shoulder again towards the door.

“Whatcha looking for?” The boy asks Remus, eyes on the bar, wiping away some spilled beer. “Meeting someone?”

Remus sighs out a breathy laugh, sitting down on an empty barstool, balancing Harry – who looks tired, now – on his lap. There are people either side, but none are paying Remus any attention.

“Running from someone, actually.”

“Ohh, and he gets _more_ interesting.” The boy says mockingly, raising a sarcastic eyebrow as he cleans out glasses.

Without asking, he takes a carton of milk from the fridge behind him and pours some into a glass, then slides it across the bar to Harry. Remus meets Harry’s confused green eyes and nods to tell him it’s fine. Using both small hands, he lifts it and drinks in long gulps.

“Thanks.” Remus says quietly.

“S’ok. Little guy looked like he was about to pass out. Thought it would occupy him for a while.”

Harry licks his lips where the milk has left a white moustache. He misses the bits dripping down his chin, but Remus cleans them away with a paper napkin.

“Pint?” The bartender asks, “Might occupy you for a while?” He winks.

Remus suppresses a smirk, “No, thank you.”

“Still polite I see.”

“Still irritating I see.”

The other boy just smiles, then moves down the bar to serve a group of women in heels and short skirts. Smirking every time they speak, obviously flirting with them all, and winking at them when they leave to sit at a table.

When he returns, Remus says,

“I _was_ kidding about that drink.”

“Well I didn’t think you was actually gonna give your son vodka now, did I?” He laughs, flipping a tea-towel over his shoulder.

“He’s, er, not my son. He’s my—”

_\--dead best friends’ son. Who were only killed because my ex-boyfriend sold them to a wizard tyrant who was destroyed by this sleepy bundle of joy right here. My ex also murdered one of my other school friends, by the way. And now I’m hiding in your pub because I think one of said tyrant’s devoted followers was watching me because he wants to kill this two-year-old child. Or it’s someone looking to lock me away because I’m an unregistered werewolf._

Instead of all that bullshit, Remus says, “—he’s my friend’s kid. I, er, take care of him sometimes.”

It sounds like a lie to Remus, but then again, he’s getting really good at knowing when people aren’t telling him the truth. After everything that happened last year, Remus isn’t sure if he’ll trust someone that much ever again.

“Oh, fair enough.” The guy replies.

Clearly Remus is just paranoid. It's a perfectly normal thing to look after a friend's kid. Makes a perfectly good lie.

“I’m Cass by the way. Cass Parker.”

Remus eyes snap up from Harry, who’s wiping his finger around the bottom of the empty glass.

_This isn’t how things are meant to go._

He’s not here to make even acquaintances, let alone first name basis associates. But then, ‘Cass’ is a muggle boy who looks like the most excitement he gets is when a stranger comes to town. A stranger just like Remus.

_Ah, fuck it, we probably won’t talk properly after tonight._

“Remus Lupin.”

“No way that’s your name!” Cass splutters. “You’re having me on. Funny. Would say it’s creative, but it literally means, like, ‘Wolf Wolf’, right?”

Remus sighs. _Why do I even bother?_

“I’m serious.” Remus swears.

_No, Moony, I’m Sirius._

_Shut up, shut up, shut up..._

Cass doesn’t look convinced. “Sure. Ok _Remus_ , who’s the little one then?” He gestures to Harry, “I’d ask myself, but the poor sod’s basically asleep.”

Harry’s eyelids look heavy and drooping. It’s getting dark, now. They could go to the bathroom and apparate back home if they wanted. It’s not the safest with Harry, he’s still very young for it, but surely it’s better than the alternative. The alternative being killed or getting caught, of course.

“Cass Parker," he gestures to Harry, "meet Harry Potter.”

Cass extends his hand across the bar and Harry smiles sleepily as he shakes it back.

“Nice to meet you, kid.” Cass tells him.

Remus pulls some money from his pocket and leaves it on the bar. Cass laughs, but puts it in the register anyway.

“It’s really not a problem, it was just milk.”

Remus stands, lifting Harry into his arms, Harry’s head resting on Remus’ shoulder, arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his middle. Clinging to Remus.

“Well, thanks anyway... and for the chat, I’spose.”

“Any time, wolf-boy.” Cass smirks.

Remus leaves before Cass says anything else.

He finds the bathroom occupied – and the sounds coming from inside suggest that it would be that way for a while – so Remus takes Harry down a corridor, makes sure no one is around, and apparates to the house with a _crack._

That night as Remus lies in bed, staring at the almost-full moon through the window, Remus feels a mixture of emotions and thoughts. But his main one – or the one he forcefully shoves to the front of his mind, anyway – is for their blonde friend. Someone knows where they are.

_No more leaving the house for a while, Harry._

* * *

_September, 1982_

The leaves start to go brown by the end of the month. Remus keeps Harry within the boarders of the barrier charms for longer than he probably needs to, but he feels better knowing no one can get to him here. Molly comes over a few times, and Harry still spends the full moon at the Burrow. Remus hates the fact that he has to leave him, even for one night, but any chance of Harry getting wounded by Remus is far worse.

Harry cries this time when Remus tells him they have to go.

“No, stay with Remy.”

Fat tears rolls down Harry’s little cheeks and Remus feels awful for being the one to cause him distress, but he can’t do anything about it. So he _tries_ explaining.

“Harry, sometimes... Sometimes I have to stay away. And you have to go and stay with Ron... because...”

But Remus doesn’t know where to start. He wants Harry to understand, but not to be scared that he’ll ever get hurt. Nothing would be worse than Harry thinking Remus could ever hurt him. Harry looks into Remus’ eyes. The green is so bright when he cries, just like Lily’s had been.

“We have to go now.” Remus whispers.

The next morning when Remus goes to collect Harry, he has a fresh wound open across his face. Molly helps clean him up, but the kids stare when Remus walks in from the kitchen to find Harry sat on the sofa. Harry’s face breaks into a toothy grin, and Remus’ arms open for the little boy to crash into.

“Hi Harry.”

“Hi Remy.” He responds, voice muffled by Remus’ jacket.

By the time they get home, it’s already dark. They spent the whole day at the Burrow with the Weasley’s, and Harry is yawing so much Remus has to carry him to bed. Harry refuses to let go of Remus when he tries putting the kid down, so he crawls into the tiny bed beside him and cuddles Harry until it seems like he’s drifted off. Pretty soon, Remus feels _his_ eyelids dropping, too, and knows he’ll fall asleep if he doesn’t move soon.

That’s when Harry whispers, “You got ’nother scar.”

Remus feels Harry's little fingers trail across his face where the fresh cut is still healing. Remus’ eyes go glassy, blurring the image in front of him.

“Yes.” He breathes back.

“You do it?”

Remus is definitely going to cry.

“Not on purpose.”

Harry is quiet for a beat, Remus thinks he might’ve dropped off finally.

But then, “Why?”

Remus doesn’t know why he should lie to Harry anymore.

“There’s a wolf, sometimes. Me.”

The child is silent, but doesn’t move away as if he’s scared. Instead he snuggles in closer. His hair smells like baby shampoo and the scented candles they have downstairs. Harry touches his hand to his own lightning-shaped scar.

“Sorry, Remy.”

Remus falls apart. The tears fall slowly but each one feels like relief. Or panic, perhaps. He’s not sure.

“Me too, Harry. Me too.”

The whispered conversation hangs in the air as they fall asleep.

* * *

_October, 1982_

Halloween comes sooner than Remus expects. It sneaks up behind him and holds him underwater until he drowns. It’s been a year. A whole _fucking_ year since they died. Since Harry lost his parents, since Remus lost his whole world.

Harry is none the wiser about the tragedy from last year. He spends the morning jabbering about how he wants to dress up as a ghost, so Remus uses a spare bed sheet and cuts holes in it for Harry to see through, then watches as the child stumbles around the downstairs shouting ‘boo’.

Remus tries. All day he tries his hardest not to crack. He transfigures some pots and pans, turning them into a knight’s helmet and sword, which makes Harry happy. He plays ‘ghosts vs. knights’ for hours in the garden, then lets Harry help make pumpkin pie to take to Molly’s for the next moon. He needs to say thank you for... well _everything_ she’s done this past year.

He also gets Harry some sweets. Remus thanks Godric that they don’t get Trick-or-Treaters this far out of the village, but doesn’t want Harry to miss out on the fun. So he buys muggle sweets from the closest shop, and a collection of wizard ones, too. Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans are risky, but Remus hasn’t had them in years, so thinks it could be fun to try one again. And, obviously, he gets chocolate frogs. Harry loves the cards.

In the evening, Remus turns on the TV for the first time in weeks and they watch a new movie called E.T. It came out over the summer, apparently. Maybe one day Remus will take Harry to a proper muggle cinema. The kid laughs along and enjoys the alien adventure as he scoffs his gummy sweets.

Harry falls asleep before the end, and Remus takes him up to bed before heading to his own room. The sky is cloudy, so he can’t see the moon, but he’s glad.

He thinks of James and Lily.

_A whole year..._

Remus lies against the pillows, closes his eyes and can only see their faces as they might've looked that night. He imagines the whole thing over and over again like he’s done a thousand times since. Wishes that he could’ve been there, done something... _anything_. He would gladly go back and fight Voldemort himself if it meant they would be here to kiss their son goodnight and tell Remus that everything was going to be fine.

“Fuck you, Black.” Remus whispers.

_Fuck you fuck you fuck you..._

But when he finally falls asleep, tears on his cheeks and his body covered in a thin layer of sweat, he dreams of doing just that. And it makes him feel sick.

* * *

_November, 1982_

“Re-mus.” Remus repeats, slowly.

“Re-mus... Remus!”

“Hey, well done. Only took six months.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow. “I like Remy.”

Remus scoffs, throwing the blanket from the back of the couch over Harry’s head. Harry squeals and giggles, pulling it off and leaping across the sofa. His black hair is a fizzy mess, but his eyes are shining and he’s grinning madly.

“Remy. Remy. Remy! REMY!” He taunts.

Remus just smiles, lifting Harry up and spinning him in circles until he stops saying it. They collapse back onto the sofa together, a jumbled mess.

“Well, it’s not like it's the worst name I’ve been called.”

“No?”

“I’ve had ‘Loony Lupin’... that one was irritating for a long time. But I don’t care much anymore. Also, ‘Moody’ as a joke because, well... you know Moody? The man with the—”

“The funny eye!”

“Yep, that’s the one. Well, if I _was_ being a moody git—I mean, a moody _person_.” Crap. He forgets he has to be the responsible one sometimes, “Well, if I was being moody, Siri— _my friends_ would call me that because their nickname for me was... was...”

His smile falters and he can tell Harry is waiting for him to continue, but Remus isn’t going to mention ‘Moony’. Never again.

“Anyway,” he plastered on a bright grin, “now I have ‘Remy’, which just belongs to us, ok?”

Harry nods. “Us.”

Remus scoops Harry up and they sit together as the fire crackles in the grate. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs... no matter what, they’d never be the Marauders again.

_“My Moony...”_ a distant voice from another lifetime says quietly, before kissing him gently. Or roughly. It didn’t matter which. Remus had loved both.

_Fuck fuck fuck..._

* * *

_December, 1982_

The picture moves. Harry peers over Remus’ shoulder to have a look and gets all excited when he finds Ron amongst the Weasley clan, smiling happily, tugging on his mother’s hand. 

“Ron!”

“Yep, in the paper.”

“He’s famous, Remy!”

“Sure, kid.”

Arthur won a competition at work, and with the prize money, took the family to Egypt for two weeks. Molly wrote to say that they had a wonderful Christmas and that they’d be back before the moon on the 27th, so there was no need for Remus to worry. Harry had received Ron’s messy scrawl of a picture he’d sent as well. Remus helped him put up in his bedroom, along with the cut out photograph from the paper.

Molly and Arthur are beaming in it. Bill looks like he’s completely in his element, his hair has grown out during his time at school, and it’s pulled back from his face in a short, messy ponytail. Molly would be getting rid of that as soon as they got home. Charlie holds his little sister in his arms and they both wave enthusiastically at the camera. The twins are both pulling stupid faces and laughing as Percy tells them off, his glasses slipping down his nose, and his pet rat, Scabbers, perched on his shoulder. He’d found it in the garden during the summer and just kept it.

The _Daily Prophet_ published the picture a few days ago, and Arthur sent Remus a copy – or three – just that morning.

“You’ll be seeing Ron in a couple of days, Harry.”

Harry’s face drops a little. He hesitates before saying,

“Wolf?”

Remus swallows and avoids Harry’s eyes, “Yep.”

Next thing Remus knows, Harry is curled up in his lap and hugging him tightly. Remus holds onto him, letting Harry keep him grounded and sane.

“You will be ok.” Harry promises.

Remus sighs, “I hope so.”

* * *

_Friday 31st December 1982_

Remus wakes up in the woods, surrounded and half-buried in snow. The forest looks like a winter wonderland, icicles hang from trees, snowbells pop up through patches of dirt, and snowflakes fall gently onto Remus’ exposed body, melting from the heat of his skin. He staggers to his feet, assessing the damage the wolf has done this time, but only sees a few small scratches across his thigh.

It was a... not a _good_ night, exactly, but the wolf hasn’t damaged him this little since his pack was there to distract him, and that has to mean something.

It means things are getting better.

* * *

_Saturday 1st January 1983_

Remus stumbles out of the fireplace, lands on the sofa and rolls onto his side with a groan. Using his wand, he lights the fire properly and watches the flames grow. Distracting himself from everything Dumbledore told him only moments ago. This can’t be happening.

_Fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK..._

How _could_ this be happening? After everything he’s done to try to move on, _this_ has to happen?! The worst fucking thing Remus could imagine.

“Fuck!” He screams.

Remus stands up and heads to the kitchen. He needs a drink. No, he needs to break something. He grabs a glass and smashes it to the wooden floor. Mary isn’t here to clean up this time. She came home a few weeks ago, after a whole year abroad. She hasn’t come over, writes less and less, doesn’t call unless Remus asks. She’s pulling away from the wizarding world entirely. Away from him. Maybe after tonight’s revelation, she’ll come and visit for once.

The sound of the glass breaking is satisfying, but it doesn’t last. He goes for another, and that’s when the sensible part of his head cuts in.

_Harry._

Knowing he would be a complete mess when he got home, Remus asked if Harry could stay the night at the Burrow. Molly had agreed of course, and Remus felt utterly guilty as he used the Floo Network to get out of there without even saying goodbye, but he needed to be alone.

“Fucking hell!” He shouts.

_This can’t be happening..._

Remus opens the cupboards, searching for alcohol – he doesn’t care what. Preferably something strong, though. Then he curses himself for not remembering that he hasn’t had much at the house since Harry came along.

“Fuck sake!”

Cigarettes? Some, tucked above the kitchen cabinets, out of Harry's reach. He pulls one out and lights it, savouring the taste and smell of the tobacco as it fills the air. Shit, he should be outside. He has the kid to think of. _Dammit._ He heads to the backdoor, pocketing his wand, then remembers there’s a place where booze is easy to come by. Remus leaves the back garden, starts up the lane and apparates when he leaves the boundary spells, clutching his cigarette.

* * *

The Black Crow is busy, as per usual. Filled with people celebrating the New Year. Remus pushes himself inside and shoves past a cluster of laughing girls.

“Hiya, handsome.” A blonde one says, biting her bottom lip as her friends giggle behind her. “Buy me a drink?”

She looks like Marlene. Remus turns away.

When he reaches the bar, he collapses onto a stool and his head falls into his hands, running his fingers through his curls, lit cigarette between his teeth. Someone stands in front of him.

“Drink, mate?”

“Shots.”

The bartender laughs, “Seriously? Wolf-boy wants shots?”

Remus looks up at Cass, who’s grinning.

“It’s Remus, mate, and yes I’m serious.”

Cass smirks, “Fine, if you’re sure, _Remus_.”

Forty minutes later, Remus has had two rounds of shots and is finding it difficult to keep his head up. Cass gets off his shift and joins Remus on the other side of the bar, handing him a pint – like he asked for – and taking a seat beside him, sipping his water.

“Not drinking?” Remus slurs.

“Nah.” Cass says, “Gotta drive to my dad’s tomorrow. Can’t be getting pissed. Unlike you, eh?”

“Wha—?”

“You, Remus, you’re hammered. And you ain’t got Harry with you, so I guess it’s ok?”

Remus shrugs, pulling out another cigarette. He almost takes out his wand to light it, but stops himself just in time.

“Got a light?”

Cass rummages around his pockets for a second before holding up a lighter. “Apparently so.”

Remus lights up and inhales.

“So, what’s up?”

“Huh?”

Cass raises an eyebrow, “Well this isn’t how I pictured you spending your New Year’s. Thought you and your friends – y’know, the ones with the kid – would be hanging out, maybe.”

Remus sniffs, then takes a gulp of his beer. “Something came up.”

_Shit shit shit shit..._

“Family stuff?” Cass asks.

Remus hesitates, his head hurts. “Kinda. Old family... _friend.”_

“That sucks.”

“Yep.”

It takes another hour for Remus to decide to leave. He can barely stand up straight when he tries. Cass slings an arm around his back and helps him out into the street. The frozen air wakes Remus up a little and he re-gains his footing. But leans heavily on Cass, still.

“Sorry.”

Cass laughs, “’S’ok.”

“No, ‘s not.” Remus tells him, his words slurring together. “I ‘ave to get 'ome.”

“Like you’re gonna manage that on your own.” Cass scoffs. “C’mon, where’d you live? I’ll drop you off.”

Remus protests for a while, but really he knows he needs the help. If the charms hold properly, Cass should be able to get in with Remus there, and then once he leaves, shouldn’t be able to find the house again... right? Fuck it, he’s too tired and unstable to care about that right now. Remus wants his bed. He wants to go home and scream until he can’t breathe.

Cass half-drags, half-carries Remus to his car, then shoves him into the passenger’s seat. Remus has spent little time in cars before. Lily drove to London on her parents’ one a long time ago, before she moved in with James. And James took them to a dealership once, but he didn’t have enough time to actually buy one. The war came into full swing and then—

_No no no no..._

Cass drives as Remus gives him hazy directions. _Left. Right. Right. Down there. Small dirt road. Cottage, ta-da._ As they get close, Remus senses the barrier magic, then feels as they pass through it. Cass parks and Remus stumbles out of the car, moving towards the garden.

“Cheers, Cass.” He mumbles.

Cass smiles, “Anytime. You going to be ok? With this friend stuff, I mean. I know it can be tough—”

“You don’t get it...”

“No, I don’t but I understand that—”

“Trust me, you don’t.” Remus assures him.

They’re at the front door now. Remus didn’t lock it. _Crap_. Oh well, no one can get here without Remus letting them. He pushes the door open and Cass helps him to the sofa.

“You’re probably right. I don’t get it. But you’ll be alright?”

“I’ve never been alright.”

Cass frowns.

“Kidding.” Remus forces a laugh, “I’ll be ok. Thanks again.”

“Like I said, anytime.” Cass winks.

Then he’s gone. Remus listens as the car pulls away from the house, up the track and he’s alone again. He doesn’t care. Maybe he does. Remus has no idea what to feel anymore. How do you cope with something like this?

_What the fuck is going to happen now?_

Will he come for Harry like Kingsley said all those months ago? Will he come for Remus and beg for protection like Dumbledore suspected?

“Fucking hell.” Remus whispers as he closes his eyes.

Because there’s only one thing he knows for sure. One fact he heard from Dumbledore himself.

Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the ending... Sirius is back though! Yay! More angst before they can be happy again unfortunately, but I'm glad he's here.
> 
> Thanks for reading x


	9. Chapter Nine: The Prisoner Of Azkaban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A sneaky little chapter...
> 
> This one is kind of a break from the longer ones. I think next chapter will be... yeah, longer... there's lots of stuff to work out.

## Chapter Nine: The Prisoner Of Azkaban

_Monday 9th January 1983_

Rolling over, Remus finds himself facing the window. It’s daytime again. There’s sunlight shining through the cracks in the curtains, brightening the dingy room and making his eyes burn. He hasn’t seen proper daylight in over a week. He spends the days sleeping or sitting at the Black Crow’s bar.

Remus squints slightly, just to avoid seeing spots, and turns over to face the door that stands ajar. On the other side there’s silence. Harry is still sleeping.

Good, let him rest.

The kid deserves to. Remus has been a crappy guardian for the last week. Since Sirius’ escape was announced on New Year’s, Remus has spent most of his time in bed. Or at the pub with Cass. He’s great, he lets Remus drink whatever he wants, and listens as Remus rants vaguely about his ‘family friend’ who has ‘recently caused some issues’ in his life. Cass is just so easy to talk to. So Remus vents, he drinks and he smokes, but he needs to stop.

It’s probably not the greatest response to something like this. He should be looking after Harry, keeping him safe, but he’s selfish. He’s scared. He’s... he doesn’t know what to feel anymore.

Numbness consumes him.

Molly took Harry for the first few days. Remus didn’t complain. But he should’ve insisted he keep Harry at the house, where he’s always in sight, where he’s safest. Though, Remus isn’t even sure the house _is_ completely safe anymore.

Since the incident back in August, Remus has been paranoid that someone – he’s not sure who, exactly – but that _someone_ knows where they are. Maybe not precisely, but they know two important facts: one, Remus is looking after Harry; two, they live somewhere in the area. And that makes the house – and therefore Harry – a target.

Remus concentrates and hears Harry’s steady breathing across the hallway as he sleeps in his own bed again.

Remus feels like shit. He _is_ shit. He acts shitty and he hates himself for it. For getting so preoccupied by everything Sirius put _him_ through, that he doesn’t bother checking in on the child that lost just as much because of him.

_I hate you I hate you I hate you..._

But he can’t tell who he hates more. Sirius or himself.

* * *

The _Daily Prophet_ is delivered later that morning, dropped onto the table by the Ministry owl, who squawks, takes the money, and leaves through the window again. Remus closes it behind the bird. It’s still freezing outside, no snow yet, though.

He makes his way over to Harry at the kitchen table, but one glance at the cover of the paper and Remus drops his glass of orange juice. It falls to the floor and smashes apart. Harry flinches in his chair across the table, but seems more concerned by Remus’ extreme reaction.

“R-Remy?”

Remus gulps, “I’m fine,” then he remembers... _responsible adult,_ “are you alright?”

Harry nods, continuing to chew on his honey covered toast. It drips off the edge and covers his fingers in sticky golden syrup. Overall, he seems pretty unfazed, if a little worried for Remus.

Shakily, Remus takes out his wand, “ _Scourgify_.”

The glass and liquid is cleaned away within a second, and Harry watches wide-eyed.

“Remy, do it again!”

Despite himself, Remus chuckles a little, “I’m sorry for breaking it, Harry.” Then he repeats, “I’m sorry,” quietly.

But he’s not just talking about the juice.

Harry smiles, “S’ok.”

Later, once Harry is playing with his Christmas toys beside the fire, Remus dares himself to have another look at the front of the _Prophet_. The headline reads:

MASS MURDERER, AND DEATH EATER, SIRIUS BLACK, SPOTTED IN HOGSMEADE.

Below, is a picture of a man Remus used to know.

...

_“Azkaban changes people.” James had told Remus in the Hogwarts library long ago, as they studied the prison for a History class._

_He read aloud from a textbook, “‘The Dementors drain inmates of all happiness they’ve ever felt, leaving them with their worst memories only, leading to hollow and emotionless bodies, or even insanity. Most of the prisoners inside of Azkaban’s walls die from despair, having lost the will to live.’”_

_Remus raised an eyebrow, “So... not very nice then?”_

_Laughing dryly, Sirius said, “Sounds like home.”_

_..._

Remus studies the curves of this new Sirius’ cheeks, where the skin was once flawless and sculpted to perfection. Now, the dark circles under his eyes age him, the rough beard adds a sense of danger Remus has never truly seen before, only imagined in his worst nightmares. His once soft, glossy hair is a tangled, frayed mess. Longer.

_Azkaban changes people._

This Sirius is completely unrecognizable to the boy Remus had known long ago. The soft-skinned, aristocratic, mischievous kid who laughed louder than anyone else in the room, who played Quidditch because his best friend loved it, who sent Remus secret winks across classrooms.

This Sirius is not that boy. This Sirius a murderer, a Death Eater, a follower of Voldemort, a man who betrayed his best friends. A man who ruined everything Remus has ever known. Angry tears form in his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall, not for him. Not again.

He throws the paper in the fire, stopping to glance at the photo of Lily, James and Harry McGonagall gave them last Christmas.

_I’m sorry._

He sniffs and turns around, smile on his face. The fakeness aches, his cheeks not used to the expression after days of nothing but numbness. But Remus smiles, brightly, because he wants to be there for Harry. He doesn’t want him to be scared of anything. Of Sirius – who Remus still hasn’t explained about – or even of Remus’ unchecked emotions.

“What’re we playing then, Harry?”

The kid beams.

* * *

_Friday 13th January 1983_

A few days later, Remus is woken from his place on the sofa to a knocking at the front door. He’s irritated at first, his nap is interrupted and he’s so bloody tired, but then he remembers no one is supposed to know where they are, so grabs his wand from the waistband of his jeans.

Harry is sleeping already, he passed out shortly after dinner, so Remus took him upstairs. Then got comfortable on the sofa, accidentally falling asleep in front of the fire, Top of the Pops playing quietly in the background.

He switches it off now.

Remus peers through the peep-hole, prepared for an attacker – maybe the blonde man again – but instead he’s met with a sight just as bad. Dumbledore.

Remus’ heart starts pounding, but he unlocks the door and acknowledges the Professor briefly, before saying the first thing that comes to his mind.

“He’s dead isn’t he?”

Because surely, _surely_ , the aurors have caught Sirius by now, and he’d be killed on sight. He’s the most wanted wizard in Britain. He was seen in Hogsmeade only days ago, and now he must be dead. _Must be._ Burned. Buried. Six feet under. Remus doesn’t care how... Well maybe— _no,_ he doesn’t.

_Fuck you fuck you fuck you..._

He screams in his head.

Dumbledore stands there as if this is just another outing for him. A man who raised a child army and left most of them to die... This news is just another death to report. Another soldier – another enemy – destroyed.

His blue eyes shine in the moonlight, his white beard and hair illuminated, but he doesn’t say ‘ _yep, we finally got the bastard’_ like Remus is expecting.

Ok, maybe not those specific words, but something along the same lines.

Instead, the headmaster sighs deeply. “Not exactly.”

Frowning, Remus opens his mouth to ask ‘what?’, but that’s when Dumbledore moves aside. Only slightly, but it’s enough. Enough for Remus to see what Dumbledore wants him to see.

Every instinct screams at Remus to attack. To fight. To kill. To do _something_. But he can’t. He can’t move. Can’t breathe. The water fills his lungs, hands pull him down, further and further until he can’t see the surface anymore, just the depths of the ocean. The blackness.

Standing in the garden, moonlight shining in its black fur is a huge black dog. It’s scruffy and thin, like it hasn’t eaten for weeks – perhaps it hasn’t – but it’s undoubtedly...

_Fuck fuck fuck FUCK..._

The eyes are what give him away. The dog always had the same eyes. Not human, but the same colour, the same lazy gaze. Remus would recognise those blue-grey eyes anywhere. Because those are eyes he’s stared into a million times. Eyes he used to dream about before he really knew what it meant. Eyes that bore into his one night after a party. Eyes that shot open when Remus finally kissed him, pressing his body up against the wall until he was kissed back.

Eyes that refused to meet Remus' in the lead up to James and Lily's deaths. 

Standing in the garden is Padfoot.

Remus steps outside, wand raised, slamming the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER!!


	10. Chapter Ten: Friends, Lovers, Soldiers, Spies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long one, guys!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a flashback to start off...

## Chapter Ten: Friends, Lovers, Soldiers, Spies

_September, 1976_

“Remus,” Sirius said quietly, “Remus I’m sorry.”

Remus ignored him, shoving his face further into the book he was reading. James sat on the chair across the Common Room – Peter at his feet – looking at his hands awkwardly, as if he didn’t want to be involved. Though, of course he was, he had been the one to stop anything from happening.

To Remus or to Snape.

“Please, Remus!” Sirius whined.

“Sirius, just drop it.” James cautioned, but the other boy wasn’t having any of it.

“Moony... please—”

“No, Black!” Remus snapped, finally, slamming his book shut and standing up. He towered above Sirius. He used to love that. Sirius was the perfect height for… well, everything. Not now. Now Remus just enjoys the edge of superiority it brings, seeing Sirius look so small.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. You did the—the most pathetic, stupid- _fucking_ -thing, something that could’ve gotten people _killed_ , Sirius! Actually killed! This wasn’t another fucking prank, this was life and death. For me, too, by the way, if you even care. Not just Severus.”

Sirius flinched slightly, but Remus continued anyway, he fought until he tasted blood.

“I don’t know what was going through your head when you told him to go out there, but I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses!”

Remus stormed from the room, eyes prickling with hot, angry tears, but he wouldn’t let them fall. Not for this. Not for him. The door to their dorm flew open, splintering against the stone wall behind it.

“Fuck!”

He didn’t want to be back at school... but he did, too. He _hated_ Sirius for what he’d done last term... but he didn’t as well. _Fuck you,_ Remus would scream at the other boy in his dreams, before Sirius pressed him against the wall and kissed his neck, undoing his shirt buttons and the buckle on his belt.

_Fuck you. Fuck you!_

Remus swore to himself he’d never forgive Sirius, while he spent the summer in solitude, wishing things were different. That he was with his friends. He didn’t speak to his dad unless he needed to, but that was almost ‘normal’ since his mother died, and he wasted most of his time avoiding any letters the Marauders tried writing.

Remus drank, smoked and laid about in the garden waiting for the moons to come so he could rip himself apart.

But he swore he’d never forgive Sirius. Not after this. He did something so unbelievably awful and Remus would never forgive him.

_Never never never..._

“Moony?” James said, carefully, as he entered their dorm, taking a seat on the edge of his own bed, opposite Remus who was lying back on his, staring at the red canopy.

Remus sighed angrily, “Look, Potter if you’re here to tell me to calm down or some shit, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Ok. I won’t.”

James hesitated for a moment.

“He messed up, I was the first to admit it. But he really is sorry, Moony.”

“I know that!” Remus yelled, he didn’t care if people could hear him downstairs. “I just... _I just..._ ”

“Yeah, I know.”

Remus sat back up, running his hands down his scarred face. James watched him, concern painted so clearly on his features. The torture of his two best friends not speaking to one another was there in full view. The furrowed brow, the sad hazel eyes, the weary expression from playing both sides so carefully, as not to lose either of them.

“I just _can’t_ forgive him, Prongs.” Remus whispered.

James sighed, “I know that, too.”

They were both silent for a moment, listening to the rain as it splattered against the window.

“But... maybe you could try?”

Remus glared daggers at his bespectacled friend, who raised his hands in surrender.

“Hang on!” James cried, “Hear me out... Sirius deserved punishment for what happened, sure. And he got it, right? He got kicked off Quidditch, detention for the whole of the summer term, had to stay home all summer – mum wouldn’t even let him out to the village with me and Peter. But, Moony, he didn’t even care... because the worst thing was not having _you_ —”

“Well it’s his own _fucking_ fault!”

“And he knows that!” James insisted. “But maybe, y’know, we could all just get along again? Pete was so stressed over the summer, I think he was honestly afraid you’d drop out of school or something. Just disappear. Sirius even asked dad if he would check in with Lyall and make sure you were ok.”

Remus’ eyes met James’. He listened.

“And... I—I just want my best friends back.” James looked down, bashfully, like it was embarrassing for a sixteen-year-old boy to care about his friends at all.

“Please. Remus, just consider trying to understand that he knows what he did was wrong. That he _is_ genuinely sorry.”

Remus nodded swiftly and James left him alone again.

Remus laid back down, his head against the pillows and eyes watching the candlelight flicker on the red curtains around his bed. He closed them and sat in the darkness for hours as his mind rolled over James’ words.

Of course Sirius was sorry. He’d been saying he was sorry since the day after he told Snape to go to the Willow on the full moon. He’d regretted the stupid ‘prank’ since the second the words had left his lips. He’d said so in his summer letters – Remus read them all on an impulse on the final night of the holidays.

_Moony, we need you here. I need you. Please... I hate that you hate me. I hate myself, Remus. I’d rather you came here and beat the shit out of me than just ignored me. Seriously. Come to James’, Moony, we miss you. I’ll do anything to get you to forgive me._

_I’ll never hurt you again. I promise._

Years later, Remus would know that promise to be a lie.

The other three boys came to bed a while later. Remus pretended to be asleep. He didn’t want Sirius to start begging for forgiveness again, or for James to awkwardly try and keep a conversation between the four of them going. Peter tripped over something as he climbed into bed, but fell asleep as soon as he hit the mattress.

James ‘forgot’ something downstairs. Remus knew he just wants to catch Lily before she went to sleep. He liked saying goodnight to her, even if she just tells him to piss off.

That left Sirius and Remus alone, basically. Wormtail was snoring already. Remus tried his hardest to sound like he was asleep, but Sirius knew him too well.

“Moon— Remus?” He whispered, standing behind Remus’ bed curtains. Remus could see his silhouette through the fabric. Saw how he nervously twisted a strand of his hair around his finger. Remus didn’t say anything.

Sirius huffed like a petty child.

“Remus, I know you’re awake.”

Nothing.

Sirius sighed, and his hand reached towards the curtains to... what? Pull them back and demand Remus forgive him? Crawl inside and get really confused when Remus relented and just held him, whispering that he would never be able to stay mad at him forever, no matter what.

But Sirius stopped, thankfully, leaving his hand floating in mid-air, like he was giving a half-hearted high-five to no one, then dropped it after a while. Remus shuffled silently down his bed to where Sirius stood, sitting cross-legged before him.

They stayed there for a while, both knowing full well the other was right in front of them. Neither knowing what to say.

“—Hey guess what? Evans didn’t jinx me this time!”

James came crashing into the dorm; Sirius leaped away, back to his own bed. Peter groaned, and James seemed to remember two of his dormmates were sleeping, so continued in excited, loud whispers to Sirius only.

“She said, ‘see you tomorrow, Potter,’ instead of hexing me, Pads! I’m telling you, she’s coming ‘round.”

Sirius went back to pretending Remus was asleep.

Remus went back to pretending he still hated Sirius.

* * *

_Present Day, 1983_

Now, Remus doesn’t have to pretend he hates Sirius. Now he knows that Sirius’ empty school promises were just that, empty. Nothing. As useless as Remus struggling against the wolf on the full moon. There is no way to change either one of them.

A monster and a spy.

The door slams.

Remus strides across the front porch to Dumbledore, holding up his wand, furious and demanding answers.

“What the fuck is this?!” He yells, gesturing to Padfoot, who stays put. “Have you finally lost it, old man?!”

“Remus—” Dumbledore says, calmly.

“Fuck that! I want to know why the hell you thought bringing him here would end well. I want him dead! After what he did? I want him fucking gone!”

“Remus!” Dumbledore’s voice booms.

In a distant corner of his mind, Remus hopes Harry doesn’t get woken up, but he’s got bigger problems to deal with.

Padfoot takes a step forwards and Remus aims his wand at the huge, black dog.

“Take another fucking step and I’ll be joining you in Azkaban.” He warns, he probably sounds like a madman, but he has every right to be.

Dumbledore moves between them. “Remus, there are some things that need to be discussed—”

“You don’t say?” Remus exaggerates his sarcasm.

“—however,” Dumbledore continues as if he was never even interrupted, “the most important information for you to know right now, is that Sirius is not guilty of the crimes he has been charged with.”

Remus laughs. Actually laughs. But it’s cold, nothing like the way he has learned to laugh this past year. The way Harry makes him laugh, or Mary’s letters make him chuckle. It’s a hollow sound and it rings in the frozen air.

That’s when Padfoot changes.

Remus can’t move. His throat closes up and all his anger is suddenly completely lost in his chest. Blinking furiously, a small, strangled sound escapes Remus’ mouth. He clenches his jaw, but his wand stays aimed at the dog as he transforms back into the man he truly is.

He stands now, in the front garden, barefoot and skinny, ragged clothes hanging off his thin frame in a way that suggests he hasn’t eaten anything but scraps for weeks. Since his escape. _He’s been living as a dog_ , Remus realises. Obviously Remus always knew that he was an illegal animagus. For some backwards reason, he hadn’t mentioned anything to anyone because he didn’t know how to start. Now he thinks probably should’ve.

Dumbledore knows, too, apparently.

This man doesn’t look one bit like the boy Remus knew. All his aristocratic looks have vanished beneath a layer of dirt and grime, his once beautiful face is outlined by long strands of entangled black hair that he would’ve gagged at as a boy. His jaw is covered in a scruffy beard, and, by the way he scratches at it, he doesn’t like it at all.

Remus feels faint. He might pass out. Maybe they’ll leave if he does. Maybe he’s actually still sleeping on the sofa, and he will wake up to Harry thumping downstairs in his pyjamas, ready to welcome Hedwig back from her night’s hunting, ready to make chocolate pancakes and sing along to the record player.

But no. Remus is very much awake. And he’s seeing Sirius for the first time since before he betrayed his friends.

All Remus can think of to say is,

“I should kill you.”

Sirius’ voice is so familiar that it hurts, and yet, it belongs to a complete stranger. Emotionless, cold.

“I don’t deny you should. But you won’t.”

Remus’ wand shakes as he keeps it aimed at Sirius’ chest.

_You know the spell,_ a far off part of his mind whispers, _you know how it all works. You kill him, and James, Lily and Peter are avenged. You kill him and it can give them the revenge they deserve. The revenge_ you _deserve._

His senses heightened due to the emotional torment, Remus hears movement upstairs. It’s coming from Harry’s room, and in that moment, Remus realises he can’t kill Sirius. No matter how much he deserves it, no matter how much Remus tells himself he wants to do it.

Because that would leave Harry all alone. Again.

“Go on then.” Remus addresses Dumbledore, but doesn’t take his eyes off Sirius. “You said he’s not guilty. Tell me how. He said it himself, he doesn’t deny anything.”

“We should discuss this inside, Remus.”

Shaking his head, Remus shouts, “Over my dead body! I won’t let _him_ ,” he gestures with his wand to Sirius, “anywhere near Harry—”

The old wizard waves his hand simply towards Harry’s bedroom, up on the second floor, behind Remus’ head. Remus soon picks up the gentle, steady breathing of someone sleeping.

“What did you do?”

“He’s fast asleep.” Dumbledore tells him. Then he moves towards the front door and steps over the threshold.

Remus doesn’t know what to do. Sirius seems to be in a similar situation, and he has nothing to defend himself with. Neither does he have any weapons. Once again, the nasty voice in the back of Remus’ mind urges him to finish it.

_Kill him kill him hill him..._

_I’m going to regret this._

“Move.” Remus demands, and Sirius does.

Inside, Dumbledore sits in the armchair by the fire, facing the two of them as they walk through the door. Remus closes it behind him, but not once lets his guard down. He doesn’t trust Sirius as far as he can throw him, no matter what Dumbledore suggests.

For a split second, the scene sends Remus into a spiral of déjà vu. He, James, Sirius and Peter being called into the headmaster’s office after some prank or another, sometimes after McGonagall caught them out of bed at night when they didn’t have the Invisibility Cloak. Remus feels suddenly very small again as Dumbledore meets his eyes. They've always seemed so calming, yet so imposing.

“There is much to discuss.” He tells Remus, who stands, despite the obvious invitation to sit down.

_It’s my bloody house._

“I think, perhaps, it's best we clear the air first.” The old wizard says simply. “Sirius did not sell out the Potter’s location to Voldemort on Halloween—”

Remus scoffs. “Sure. Next you’ll tell me he also didn’t hunt down and murder poor, stupid Peter—”

“—Pettigrew did.” Sirius finishes, his face a grim line.

* * *

There was always a suspected spy in the Order. Since the war went into full swing after Remus and his friends left Hogwarts and joined up. After the news of “Sirius’” betrayal, everyone just assumed he’d been the spy all along, playing both sides for those three years.

But, as Dumbledore explains, Peter must’ve become an official Death Eater by 1980, sometime before Voldemort’s plans for Harry were discovered by the Order’s own spies. Dumbledore conveniently doesn’t mention who the Order’s spies were.

So, the Potters went into hiding as instructed, and the Fidelius Charm was used to keep them safe. Sirius was the Secret Keeper at first like everyone believed, but there had been a last minute swap to Peter.

_Why didn’t you just fucking tell me?!_

Remus screams this at Sirius in his head over and over again as the night goes on, but he doesn’t meet Sirius' eyes. Both of them are ashamed about what happened in the build up to that night.

Then comes the details of Peter’s betrayal. Peter murdering those twelve muggles, not Sirius. Peter cutting off his own finger, not it being the only part of him Sirius didn’t blow up.

Peter framing Sirius.

Sirius getting caught. Sirius being sent to Azkaban without any fair trail since everyone – Remus included – agreed he was guilty just because of who he was. Sirius left alone, blaming himself for his best friends’ deaths.

Remus still blames himself, too.

Dumbledore then speaks of the past few weeks. From the _Daily Prophet_ and the rat in the Weasley’s picture, Sirius had recognised it as Wormtail instantly. So Remus is told the story of how Sirius escaped Azkaban as Padfoot and tried finding the rat as evidence for his own innocence, but Peter was gone by the time Sirius got to the Burrow. Molly told Dumbledore Percy’s been missing ‘Scabbers’ since the day after they got back from Egypt. Remus assumes he must’ve seen the news of Sirius’ jailbreak and gone into hiding once again, scared for his life, as he ought to be...

As the night drags into early morning, Remus lowers himself into a kitchen chair, leaning forward, elbows against the table’s surface, his head in his hands.

Dumbledore speaks calmly, laying out facts, as Remus stares blankly at the wooden table-top, wishing he was bleeding out in the forest somewhere, his gut torn open, chest burning. At least that pain leaves a physical mark. Something he can look at and remember the exact moment he got hurt, the moment everything got destroyed.

But Remus doubts he’ll forget this memory anytime soon.

Remus can hear the words Dumbledore says. He processes their meaning and pieces together the truth of that wretched night and all that led up to it. The truth that’s been buried beneath all those lies for over a year, festering away inside Remus’ mind, rotting his brain. Lies that have eaten away at all the good times. Lies that flipped sweet, quiet moments into betrayals and heartbreak.

There are so many things he might’ve noticed while looking back, if he hadn’t been so busy re-living it all though his ‘Sirius was the Death Eater’ lens.

But a clear picture forms now. At first it’s blurred, areas patchy or unfinished, with the half-truths and made-up shit that Remus had to connect for himself in those long, lonely months.

But now it’s all there.

The _real_ betrayal. The _real_ spy in the Order. The _real_ Death Eater. The _real_ murderer.

Wormtail.

Peter was never the brightest kid in school, never the most attractive or the most popular. Yes, he was best friends with the now-infamous Marauders, and would tag along and join in on the pranks each time, laughing like the rest of them. But he was never the one who stood out on his own.

James was the Quidditch star. The Hogwarts heartthrob who had even the strictest teachers’ admiration. The boy who decided at twelve year’s old he was going to marry the girl of his dreams, the girl who ignored and chided and hexed him. When James Potter set his mind to something, he was damn well going to accomplish it. And, looking back with an adult mindset, Remus can see how Lily had liked James for a while, even before seventh year. But it was obviously far more fun doing things her own way.

Sirius had been the outcast. Despised and abused by his family, turned on by his brother, hated by the Slytherins who were meant to claim him. But welcomed and adored by all others. He was the troublemaker, the one who got found with giggling girls in dark corridors; who flirted shamelessly with anyone; who was caught placing dungbombs in classrooms in the dead of night. He had been the most reckless because he didn’t care if he was punished. He liked the detentions and threats of sending letters home because he loved pissing them off. Showing them how he would be different, how he would refuse to conform like Regulus had – willingly or not.

Remus had been dubbed the ‘sensible one’ by many who didn’t actually know him. He was a prefect in fifth year, a role model, a tutor for kids struggling with OWLs, the Marauder who was more likely to be caught reading in the library than out hexing Slytherins. But he was also just an angry, angsty teenager with more secrets than most. He’d lash out or start a fight just to feel something other than the weight his secrets had, the ones that always dragged him further down until he couldn’t breathe.

No, Remus wasn’t the ‘sensible one’. He was, more often than not, the mastermind, the one who kept himself contained in case something slipped out. His anger, his pain, his secrets, his obsessions, his feelings. Anything.

Peter... Peter didn’t always fit in. He tried, but when Sirius came along and befriended James, he was pushed to the side. He was always included, James made sure of it, but he was also always forgotten. Remus had liked Peter plenty. He was his dormmate, one of his best friends, a brother—

“Fucking hell.” Remus sighs.

Sirius hasn’t said a word in hours. Remus wants to punch him, to curse him, to hurt him and make him feel the pain he’s felt this past year. But Remus doesn’t move. He can’t.

His breaths pick up, slightly.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” Dumbledore says as he rises from his chair. Sirius stands up from where he’s been perching on the edge of the sofa.

“I’ll return with updates once the Order has been informed.” Dumbledore explains, “Remus, you don’t happen to know where Mary MacDonald is—”

“Don’t you dare!” Remus snaps, eyes flying up from the table, finally, to Dumbledore. “She’s trying to move on and live a normal life. To get all this…” he finds Sirius, and waves his hands angrily, “this _bullshit_ behind her. Don’t you dare put her through any of it again.”

Sirius looks hurt. Remus doesn’t care.

_Welcome to my world,_ he sneers internally.

Remus sighs deeply, “I—I’ll call her.”

Even though he doesn’t want to be the one who has to retell the same story he’s been listening to and thinking about for the last three hours, he knows it has to be him.

Bowing his head, the old wizard says, “If that is what you wish to do. Give her my regards and tell her there is always a place for her if she should choose to accept it.”

Remus just nods curtly.

Sirius is beginning to look nervous now, twisting his hands together in front of his stomach, like a kid. He seems younger in the warmer candlelight. Less of the harsh, white moonlight to accentuate his gaunt face and body. From some angles, Remus can see his ribs through the thin cloth of his ripped shirt.

Sirius and Dumbledore share a brief glance.

The older wizard sighs, “Perhaps one more favour, Remus.”

“What is it?”

“The Ministry won’t accept any of what we’ve told you tonight as truth until Pettigrew is caught and we have proof to back up our claims. Minister Bagnold will take Peter, or she'll simply have to lock Sirius up again. We currently have specialist aurors tracking him.”

Remus blinks, “And they’ll lock him away for good? Or... or will they have the Dementors perform the Kiss?”

“We’re unable to tell at this time.” Dumbledore admits, “We believe he will receive the same sentence as Sirius, since he was the true servant of Voldemort.”

Sirius’ jaw clenches. Remus ignores him.

“And this favour…?”

“Yes, well, it turns out the Order has no more safe houses available for Sirius to occupy, and we’d like for him to remain available to contact at a moment’s notice. So I'm hoping, with your shared history with Pettigrew, and things needing to be worked out, you’ll allow him to remain here, Remus.”

_No no no no..._

_Air. I need more air._

Remus stammers, at a loss for words. There’s not really much of a choice in the matter. Sirius stays, or he is found within the week and imprisoned – _wrongly imprisoned_ – again. The Ministry, Minister Bagnold herself, and the _Daily Prophet_ have been threatening to give Sirius the Dementor’s Kiss, _when_ – not _if_ – he’s found.

So Sirius has to stay.

_I hate you I hate you..._

Who, though? Sirius... or Dumbledore? Both, maybe.

Remus nods, ever-so-slightly. But it seems to satisfy Dumbledore. He smiles briefly at both men, says goodbye, then steps into the fireplace.

He has a handful of Floo Powder at the ready, and disappears into the green flames, saying, “The Hog’s Head.”

Remus doesn’t look at Sirius. Doesn’t acknowledge him properly at all, just moves past him towards the stairs, waving his wand and extinguishing the candles as he walks.

“C’mon.” He mumbles.

Leading Sirius up the stairs, then along the hall, they stop outside the two bedrooms that stand opposite one another. Remus tilts his head towards the ones that’s open. He doesn’t want to talk.

In the room there’s clearly an adult bed and all Remus’ belongings.

Sirius glances between Remus and his bedroom.

“Where will you—?”

“Harry's room. Or the couch.”

Eyes wide, Sirius stares at the second door, the one behind Remus, covered in magical and muggle stickers, the Quidditch ones moving like little photographs. There’s a small gold ‘H’ painted on the wooden panels.

Unconsciously or not, Remus positioned himself between Sirius and Harry like a barrier, a shield. Even after all the revelations the night has brought, he still doesn’t trust this new version of the man he once knew.

Or maybe he just doesn’t trust anything anymore.

“Remus—”

“Don’t. Just... not now.” Remus says. “Goodnight.”

Remus doesn’t add ‘Sirius’ on the end like he would’ve done as a kid, or ‘Padfoot’ as a teenager, or kiss him like he did when they were together. He doesn’t do anything.

He hasn’t said Sirius’ name out loud for over a year, and isn’t sure he’s ready to start, now. To act like everything is ok. Because it’s not.

I'm really fucking not ok.

Remus turns and leaves Sirius in the hallway, opening and closing Harry’s door as quietly as possible. Dumbledore’s spell seems to have worked well, since the kid is still fast asleep. Hedwig’s cage is empty, she was let out to hunt hours ago.

Gently and silently, Remus lifts the duvet and slides in beside Harry, covering them both back over so they stay warm. He cuddles in close, feeling Harry’s fist close around his hand.

That’s when he finally lets the tears come.

Tears for Lily and James, for the truth being revealed, for the correction of a huge mistake. Tears for Sirius. Despite Remus’ lingering conflicting feelings, he still cries for the boy they locked away, for the man they – _he_ – accused of killing his friends just because of his name, his heritage. Because it was easy to blame a Black. He cries for Peter, even. For the man he became, for the boy he might've stayed if they had paid him more attention. If they'd kept him closer after school.

Finally, Remus cries for himself. For believing the lies, and not knowing what is and isn’t real anymore. All he knows for sure is that Harry’s real, and Harry is the only thing he needs, the thing he needs to protect. 

Across the hall he listens as Sirius falls asleep. His breathing slows and drops, but the pattern is different now. On edge. Remus guesses he has Azkaban to thank for that. 

How will Sirius ever forgive Remus for not stepping in to defend him?

How will Remus ever forgive Sirius for pushing him away before Halloween, for making it so east to believe he'd done it?

When Remus falls asleep, he doesn’t dream, but he also doesn’t have nightmares, exactly. He just re-lives the past.

And really, that’s terrifying enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hard to write because it's basically just Remus getting slapped in the face with the truth. But I hope you think it's ok. Don't worry, there's lots more awkward, angsty conversations coming soon! And some nice stuff, too, hopefully. But these boys have a lot of stuff to sort out between them.
> 
> But Sirius is here guys, ahhhh!


	11. Chapter Eleven: When Harry Met Sirius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back :)
> 
> 1200+ hits?? That's crazy to me lol. Thanks so much x

## Chapter Eleven: When Harry Met Sirius

The first time Remus wakes up, he forgets. He doesn’t remember why he is in Harry’s bed and not his own, he doesn’t recall what happened only a few hours ago. But then it all comes crashing back in on him. The revelations, the truth of another betrayal, of another friend he has to lose and learn to hate all over again.

And Sirius _fucking_ Black is sleeping across the hall. Sleeping in Remus’ house, in Remus’ room, in Remus’ bed.

_I hate you I hate you..._

_But he’s innocent._ Another voice shouts back. This one sounds more like James’ than anyone else’s.

_Oh, James..._

Remus can’t even begin to think about how his friend would feel about him anymore. All this time he’s been worrying about how he might be letting James and Lily down by not taking care of Harry the way they’d want, but really they would be disappointed for a whole different reason.

_I let him go to Azkaban._

Well, that’s not true. Not really. Remus didn’t have any say in the matter even if he had wanted to stop it from happening. But what could he have done? Taken on the whole Ministry by himself? Fought his way to Sirius before they took him away to Azkaban? Two years ago, he would’ve done anything to prevent him losing Sirius, now he’s not so sure.

_James wouldn’t have believed the lies._ _James would’ve stuck with Sirius no matter what._

The thought stabs Remus in the chest. Hard.

The pain is fine. It’s fine. He’s fine...

Remus sleeps for another two hours before he can’t take it anymore. He can’t keep re-living the past like this. It hurts, it hurts like hell. He just sees their faces, _all_ of their faces, over and over again. So he slides out of the tiny bed and leaves the room as quietly as possible. He doesn’t want to wake Harry.

In the hallway, as much as he hates himself for it, he’s still curious. Remus peers into his room, where the door is ajar, and sees Sirius – well, Padfoot – curled up at the end of the bed.

There were times where the two of them would cuddle up together in their dorm, Sirius as Padfoot, because it was the only way they could get away with it. If Sirius was a dog, James and Peter wouldn’t really question it when he laid his head in Remus’ lap, or pounced on him playfully as Remus read his book, waiting for the others to leave so Sirius could be human again. Now he sleeps on the grey sheets. Alone.

Remus pulls his gaze away.

_Stop it stop it stop it..._

Downstairs, he makes tea. Paces. Makes toast. Paces. Reads yesterday’s paper – Sirius’ face still blown-up huge on the front page. Paces, paces, paces…

Then Remus hears it and stops dead.

Shorter breaths, quicker heartbeats. Sirius is awake. Remus isn’t even aware he’s listening so intensely until that moment. He returns to pacing the length of the kitchen, back and forth, back and forth. Remus knows he’s just delaying the inevitable by wishing Sirius would stay away. But how do either of them start a conversation like the one they need to have?

_Morning Sirius. You don’t happen to remember a year ago when you were arrested and sent to a hellish prison for something you didn’t do? And I blamed you for so long, and I hated you so much, so much that it hurt? Remember that by any chance?_

Remus’ is probably imagining things. Maybe Sirius is asleep still. Maybe _he’s_ asleep still. Dreaming, or having a nightmare, that would still be better than—

“Hi.”

Sirius stands halfway down the stairs. Remus jumps.

_Fuck fuck fuck..._

“Hi.” Remus chokes back.

He holds the mug tightly to stop his hands from shaking. Sirius’ clothes are the same ones he wore the night before. The same ones he wore while he was imprisoned, the ones he wore when he escaped... They’re covered in grime and ripped all over. There’s huge holes that show the skin on his chest, which is equally dirty. In the daylight, Remus can’t help but notice the tattoos as well. He’d always hated the thought of Sirius ruining his soft skin with them, but he stays quiet. Sirius is a different person now.

“You should probably change.” Remus mumbles, “Don’t wanna scare— well, y’know.”

The other man nods slowly.

“Well I don’t have any—”

“Just take what you need from the wardrobe. We can get you some stuff... soon.”

_This is hell._

Neither of them can meet each other’s eyes without immediately glancing away again. Sirius stands awkwardly on the stairs, shifting from foot to foot, as Remus cups his mug, sipping his tea even though it’s gone cold.

_Fucking hell. Who even are we anymore?_

“You can use the shower, too.”

Sirius nods slowly, “Ok.”

Remus sighs. He can do this. He’ll be fine.

“Just try not to wake up Harry.”

At the mention of his godson – _Sirius’ fucking godson_ – his face completely changes. There’s light in his grey eyes again, and the smallest of smiles quirks at the corner of his lips.

Remus frowns. “He won’t know you.”

It’s cruel. Remus knows it’s cruel. But it _is_ true. After just a couple of months, Harry didn’t remember Remus. It took months for the kid to even learn to trust him. Sirius has been... _away_ for over a year. Harry won’t remember his godfather, no matter how much Sirius wants him to. No matter how much Harry would want to if he knew Padfoot was back.

This realisation clearly registers with Sirius, because his eyes darken again, and his mouth is a thin line once more.

“I’ve been gone too long.” He whispers.

Remus wants to throw something at him. He’s not sure why.

Instead, he simply says, “For Harry? Yes, you have.”

This hurts Sirius as well, it’s painted all across his face as if Remus really had thrown something. Something sharp that cuts deep and leaves a scar.

_See how he likes it._

In the back of Sirius’ mind, Remus guesses cogs must be turning, trying to figure out what to say next. Maybe, a long time ago, it would be something snarky like, _And you, Remus? You didn’t think I was gone too long?_ Then he’d be leaving Remus to figure out the hard part that comes next. The way to start the difficult conversation they need to have sooner rather than later.

But Sirius says nothing, just picks at a loose thread hanging off the torn up shirt, shifting on his feet.

Then he frowns, “I think I’ll have that shower, now.”

Remus nods slowly. Unsure why he feels so disappointed.

“Ok.”

“Ok.” Sirius replies.

And then he’s gone again. Disappearing up the stairs.

* * *

Not long later, Remus sits at the kitchen table, the morning’s _Daily Prophet_ in one hand, fresh tea in the other. There’s a cigarette in the ashtray by the window, still burning. He had a quick smoke while he waited nervously for one of the boys to come down. Neither had so far.

That’s when Remus hears the creak of stairs.

The shock Remus feels when he sees Sirius – the _real_ Sirius. _His_ Sirius – descending those steps is incomparable. The ‘new’ Sirius, the one who went to prison, is gone. Wiped from existence along with his scruffy beard and the tangles in his hair. The old Sirius, the clean-shaven, glossy haired boy Remus used to know, stands there in his place. He wears one of Remus’ smaller sweaters – it’s red – and a pair of jeans. The jumper and jeans are too large on him, so he’s rolled up the ends on both.

Uncomfortably standing at the foot of the stairs, Sirius scratches his upper arm, as if he’s waiting for instructions.

“Um, tea?” Remus tries, unsure of himself.

Sirius just nods.

Remus makes the tea slowly, not talking. Just listening to the kettle whistling, then pouring it into a mug and handing it to Sirius, flinching slightly when their fingers touch for the briefest of moments. His pale hands are unnaturally cold.

Remus returns to the table, Sirius stays stood in the kitchen.

“Better now?” Remus asks, quietly.

The other man’s dark eyebrow raises, questioningly.

Remus tries again. “Do you feel better now that you’re not... now that you’ve cleaned up a bit?”

“Oh.” Sirius says simply. “Yes. Thanks.”

Remus nods, carefully. “Good.”

_Not good. This is not good._

Sirius sighs, “Look, Remus we need to talk—”

“Yeah. We probably should.”

Sirius steps forward, but must see Remus’ body shoot up straight. Defensive, uncomfortable. So he stays where he is. Remus doesn’t know where to start. What _can_ he say? He has to apologise, surely, but doesn’t Sirius have tons to explain as well? Like why he was drifting for so long before Halloween, why they made the change to Peter without telling him. Why he kept so many secrets from Remus, the one person he was supposed to share everything with. The one person who should’ve mattered most in the world.

_Why didn’t you just tell me?!_

Sirius is either a mind reader, or very intuitive, because he seems to understand exactly what Remus wants to ask, and why he doesn’t.

The dark-haired man gulps, setting his tea on the kitchen counter, shakily.

“Remus, look I— I know there’s lots to discuss, but I just—"

But Remus doesn’t get to find out what Sirius _‘just’_ wants to say, because in that moment, Harry comes bouncing down the stairs. Smile bright, pyjamas still on, dark hair a floppy mess.

“Remy! Remy, is Hedwig—”

Harry sees Sirius. Sirius sees Harry.

Remus knows exactly what’s happening in Sirius’ head. It’s the same stream of thoughts and emotions that fly through his own every time he looks at Harry, too. Harry looks and grins like his father, his eyes shine like his mother’s. Harry Potter is every bit James and Lily’s son, and anyone who’d known them would be able to tell at first glance.

Sirius must see it all immediately, because his eyes go glassy and he stands very still, his hands shaking a little. He leans back against the kitchen counter to steady himself. Harry glances between Remus and the stranger who’s stood in their house. He rushes towards Remus and clambers into his lap.

“Remy, who’s that?”

_Good question_ , Remus thinks _, let’s start with a hard one_.

_He’s Sirius Black._

_He’s a suspected ‘murderer’ on the run._

_He was your dad’s best friend._

_He was my best friend._

_He was my person. My whole world._

_He’s your godfather._

Which would confuse Harry the least?

“He’s... someone from a long time ago.”

Sirius and Harry’s eyes meet for a while. Sirius’ expressions seem to be taking him through every stage of grief in about two minutes. By the time he reaches ‘acceptance’, his grey-blue eyes are full of tears, but none fall.

Harry just watches him, tilting his little head to one side as if examining this new addition to their small world. Ultimately, he must’ve declared him acceptable, because Harry smiles and hops off Remus’ lap to join Sirius in the kitchen.

“I’m Harry.”

Sirius laughs, hollowly. “I know.”

“You know me?”

Sirius meets Remus’ eyes briefly, a cry for help.

“Er, I knew you a long time ago.”

Harry seems to find this very interesting. “Knew Remy too?”

“Um, yes. I knew... _Remy?”_

Remus groans internally. If it had been five years earlier, he would never have heard the end of a nickname like that. For a quick moment he feels like the old Remus, the one who cracked jokes with Sirius and waited for the eventual awful name to spike up. For a while in fifth year – before Prongs had stuck – James had been Bambi and every Christmas reindeer the four of them could name, and Sirius was Snuffles in retaliation. Then Pete was... Peter had been...

_Fuck fuck fuck..._

_Not the time._

Sirius finds Remus’ eyes again, and for a split second, Remus imagines him smiling and saying, _Really, Moony? ‘Remy’ is what you’ve been saddled with?_ But he doesn’t. He just returns his gaze to Harry, a little sadly.

“I’m Sirius.”

“’Bout what?” Harry blinks, frowning.

Sirius laughs a little, “No. My _name_ is Sirius.”

Harry smiles, “That’s a silly name.”

“It’s not even the worst one from my family.”

“No?”

“No.” Sirius chuckles, then his face closes up again, his eyes full of a different type of pain.

Family was tricky with the Blacks, it always had been. But Sirius always liked to ignore it. And as much as he hated Regulus sometimes, they _had_ been close once. The only thing one another had at times. Remus was there the day Sirius heard about his little brother’s death, and though Sirius had pretended he was fine, Remus knew how much it hurt him.

So Sirius avoids it again. He avoids things like Remus does.

_“Siri-us...”_ Harry whispers, hanging on each syllable, and hearing how they sound with his own voice.

This time, Remus sees tears fall from Sirius’ eyes.

* * *

The rest of the day is agony.

Remus watches as Sirius hovers around, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He doesn’t sit at the table with Remus and Harry at lunch, just says he’s not hungry and goes for a walk in the garden as Padfoot. Later, he sits on the arm of the sofa awkwardly, watching Harry play instead of joining him.

Harry likes Sirius. Sirius likes Harry.

Harry likes that Sirius loves Quidditch as much as he does, he likes that Sirius has long hair he can tug and play with – just as he’d done as a baby. Sirius hesitates at first when Harry clambers over onto his lap to show him the latest Quidditch pictures in the _Prophet._ The scores mean nothing to him, but he loves seeing the players flying around. Eventually, Sirius leans into it, adding commentary to the images in funny voices, consequently making Harry laugh manically.

Yet, still, Sirius doesn’t go into the kitchen when Remus is there; he stands by the stairs, hands in pockets, waiting to speak properly, to finish the conversation they’d started earlier.

Remus doesn’t give him a chance all day.

* * *

Later, Remus comes downstairs from putting Harry to bed – a challenging time that night, since all he wanted to do was stay up with the grown-ups and play some more. He’s blissfully unaware that Remus and Sirius have hardly said two words to one another since that morning, but that’s possibly for the best.

When he gets into the living room, Remus notices the backdoor is open. A cool breeze fills the room and he wanders over, knowing he and Sirius have to somewhere, even if it just ends in another fight like their conversations used to. Snatching his packet of cigarettes from the kitchen, Remus exits the house.

The dark has settled in fully. There’s an icy chill in the air and Remus pulls down the sleeves of his sweater as he walks across the back porch, watching Sirius as he stands in the garden, his back – where he’s pulled on one of Remus’ jackets – and his newly-washed hair illuminated in the moonlight.

“Harry likes you.” Remus says quickly. Just to break the intolerable ice that has frozen between them.

Sirius’ smile is obvious even if Remus can’t see his face. “He’s a good kid. Like his parents.”

“Mm.”

Sirius sniffs, “You two have a good thing going on here.”

Remus pauses, unsure of what to say. Eventually he settles on, “It’s quiet. Nice. Harry likes the countryside. Likes having a garden and places to play.”

“And you?” Sirius asks, “Don’t you miss London?”

He does. But he won’t admit it to Sirius.

London was a dream Remus had shared with Sirius as a kid. They’d all agreed – James and Peter included – to move in together after school. That was probably during second year, when they were young and naïve and believed anything was possible. Then they all started to grow up, knowing they’d end up doing different things after Hogwarts but refusing to admit it. Then, in seventh year, James asked Lily to move in with him after school, and Peter got his job at the Ministry, but Sirius was still clinging to their childhood plans of moving to muggle London and living there properly. Not like the aristocrat he had been, but like a normal person.

It was their dream. Remus’ childhood fantasy brought to life by Sirius’ money, Sirius’ boldness, Sirius’ excitement.

Remus sighs.

“I like it here. Harry is happy.”

Sirius laughs coldly, “But you’re not?”

“Who says I don’t?”

Sirius doesn’t reply. Remus huffs, of course not. Leave it to Sirius _fucking_ Black to vaguely start a conversation and never finish it properly. For a while they stand in silence, listening to the wind rustling through the trees.

Then, a quiet voice.

“Did you really believe I could’ve done it?”

Remus is halfway through lighting a cigarette when Sirius speaks, his hand freezing in mid-air, the roll-up between his teeth. He doesn’t know what to say.

_Yes._

‘Yes’ is the truthful answer. But how can he explain it? How will Sirius ever understand that Remus had _truly_ thought he could kill his best friends. Killed James who was more of a brother to Sirius than Regulus had been in years.

Killed his only family.

There were moments when Remus considered the possibility that it hadn’t been Sirius. Like when he’d spent that first November locked away in their apartment, half-awake, half in a drunken haze where he swore he knew Sirius couldn’t possibly have done it. Of course, he then got his shit together and realised what a mess he’d become. Then along came Harry, and Remus was pre-occupied with more important things.

Taking care of Harry was the most important thing Remus had ever done.

The first time he heard what happened from Mary, he’d sneered – _practically laughed –_ in an irritated sort of way, because he thought it was just a prank. A stupid- _fucking_ -horrible prank that Remus would scream at Sirius for when he returned home.

But then things started clicking into place, and as Mary explained, crying her eyes out and clutching Remus to keep herself steady, Remus played and re-played every moment of their time together. Every moment Sirius had acted strangely since the mention of a spy was brought up in the Order.

That was when Remus believed he’d done it. Truly. And that disgusts him, now, having discovered the truth.

But he answers honestly, still.

“Yes.”

Sirius nods, his back to Remus. “I don’t blame you. Everyone else believed it as well.”

_Why don’t you blame me?_

Because there was plenty to blame Remus for. There was a whole year’s worth of regret and heartache Remus could’ve saved himself if only he’d been less prejudice against Sirius’ past and who he was. If he’d chosen to believe in the man he’d loved instead of what other people had told him.

But there was still one question itching in the back of Remus mind that was starting to turn into a suspicion he didn’t like.

Not at all.

“Why did you act like that towards me?” Remus asks, slowly, lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag. “Why did you start acting strange in those last few months? Hovering around, not really _there_ half the time.”

Sirius turns then, guilt sprawled across his features.

“I should’ve told you everything—”

“You don’t fucking say?” Remus mutters. But Sirius has good hearing and scowls from across the garden.

“Remus, just—”

“No!” Remus cuts him off, raising his voice. “No more excuses! Why didn’t you just tell me about the swap to Wormtail? Did you not trust me?”

Sirius’ face is conflicted and so clearly hurt in that moment. But Remus has his answer just from that one expression. The way Sirius’ eyes plead with him, the way he chews the inside of his cheek nervously, as if considering what to say. He lowers his gaze towards the ground. A guilty gesture.

Suddenly it all makes sense.

The ignoring, the angry sex that he later regretted, the continuous fights they had all through that Autumn. The way Sirius would side-eye Remus throughout Order meetings, passing it off as ‘caring’ and being ‘worried about him’. How he’d spend so much time away, offering to do jobs instead of Remus because, _you need rest, Moony_. There was always a moon coming, or the moon had just passed.

Always an excuse for Remus to stay home. Out of the way.

When Remus took time to scan over those moments in the past thirteen months, he’d assumed they were all just excuses for Sirius to go off passing information to the other side. To play his part as Voldemort’s little spy. And Remus had cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. But now Remus knows otherwise.

And, really, he should’ve seen it from the beginning.

“You thought it was me.”

It’s not a question. Remus knows the answer. The silence that follows just confirms it. _Yes._

Remus steps away from the house and walks towards Sirius in the garden, trails of smoke following him as he exhales in the wintry breeze.

When he’s standing a few feet away from Sirius, Remus sighs and says, “Was it the wolf thing? The stuff with the pack?”

Sirius looks up from where he’s examining his feet.

“Was it because of my family?” He snaps.

Their eyes meet properly for the first time since last year.

“Fuck’s sake, Sirius!”

His name slips out of Remus’ mouth before he can stop himself. He didn’t mean to say it. He didn’t ever plan on saying Sirius’ name again. Well, not before last night when Dumbledore had dropped him off on Remus’ doorstep and expected the two of them to get along like nothing had happened. Like they were still the kids they’d been four years ago.

Before the war... before _everything._

Sirius’ face changes when Remus says his name. It’s not the same face as before. Hardened and covered in small scratches that blemish his perfect skin, but he looks younger now, more like the boy he’d once been. His eyes shine in the light.

Remus tries to ignore that.

“I mean... fucking hell!” Remus says, furiously, “Why didn’t you just talk to me!”

“In case you forgot, we weren’t talking much in the end.”

Remus scoffs, “And who’s fault is that?”

“Don’t do this.” Sirius shakes his head.

But Remus isn’t listening, “No, go on, tell me how _awful_ it was that we didn’t _communicate_ in those last few weeks, Sirius! Tell me how _hard_ it was for you, playing along, pretending everything was ok when you – and I’m guessing there were others – assumed I was the spy. I bet it was fucking dreadful for you all! Nevermind that I was left out of all the discussions about James, Lily _and_ Harry’s safety. About _your_ safety!”

Sirius’ face reddens and he shouts back, “I already regret all of that, Remus!”

“I’m sure you do,” Remus yells, “but it doesn’t change the fact that if you’d just _talked_ to me you probably wouldn’t have ended up in a fucking cell!”

That one cuts deep. Remus intended it to. He craves the fight. He needs to let out his pent up anger on someone other than himself for once.

Sirius doesn’t bother disagreeing with him.

The two of them stand in the garden for a while, still staring at each other. Remus hates Sirius. He hates him, he hates him, he hates him. But he doesn’t look away, doesn’t punch or curse him like he so desperately wants to. Just glares.

Finally, Sirius looks away.

“You can have your room back.” He says as he shoves past Remus, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Remus’ eyes follow the dark figure as he leaves him alone.

He stands outside in the cold, smoking, waiting for Sirius to return, to yell at him some more, to hit him, to blame him for spending a year locked away for something he didn’t do. Blame him for believing the lies Peter helped spread. The lies Remus assumed were the truth. The lies that were like torture every time Remus heard them, but were easy to believe.

But Sirius doesn’t come back, and when Remus eventually returns inside, Padfoot is curled up on the sofa, eyes open, and staring into the dying fire. Ignoring Remus entirely. It’s not even a new image. This is how it was just before James and Lily died, before the war even ended. It’s like walking into the past.

That night, Remus lies awake for hours. Twisting over and over, staring at the ceiling until he can’t dull the thoughts plaguing his mind anymore.

_I should hate you..._

Maybe he does; maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a longer break than usual. I had some shitty stuff happen recently and lost a lot of motivation. But coming back to this actually kind of helped in a weird way. I just love these characters so much.
> 
> So, I'm sorry if this isn't the best chapter in the world. But I just wanted to get it up for you guys.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around x


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